^ 

LIBRARY    I 

UNIVERSITY  OF    1 
CALIFORNIA^/ 


HV 


PREFACE. 


THE  question  has  very  naturally  been  raised  why 
heretofore  no  attempt  should  have  been  made  at  an 
adequate  biography  of  Dorothea  Lynde  Dix ;  in  fact, 
why  —  except  for  a  few  brief  accounts  of  her  career, 
printed  in  magazines,  read  before  private  clubs,  or 
inserted  in  encyclopaedias  —  no  real  information  is  to 
be  had  about  her. 

Here  is  a  woman  who,  as  the  founder  of  vast  and 
enduring  institutions  of  mercy  in  America  and  in 
Europe,  has  simply  no  peer  in  the  annals  of  Prot- 
estantism. To  find  her  parallel  in  this  respect,  it  is 
necessary  to  go  back  to  the  lives  of  such  memorable 
Roman  Catholic  women  as  St.  Theresa  of  Spain  or 
Santa  Chiara  of  Assisi,  and  to  the  amazing  work  they 
did  in  founding  throughout  European  Christendom 
great  conventual  establishments.  Why,  then,  do  the 
majority  of  the  present  generation  know  little  or  noth- 
ing of  so  remarkable  a  story  ? 

It  was  from  no  lack  of  pressure  on  the  part  of 
admirers  and  venerators  of  the  character  and  work  of 
so  exceptional  a  woman  that  this  came  about.  The 
invincible  obstacle  lay  in  her  own  positive  refusal  to 


620 


iv  PREFACE. 

permit  anything  to  be  written  of  her.  Living  to  the 
advanced  age  of  eighty-five,  and  never  pausing  in  her 
career  of  beneficent  activity  till  fully  eighty,  she  cher- 
ished all  the  disdain  of  the  heroic  soldier  setting  out 
on  ever  fresh  campaigns,  at  the  thought  of  quitting  the 
post  of  present  duty  to  look  after  the  lustre  of  past 
laurels.  Not  in  the  winning  of  laurels,  but  in  the  suc- 
cor of  human  misery,  lay  the  dominating  purpose  of 
her  life.  A  woman  of  great  pride  and  dignity  of 
character,  fully  conscious,  too,  of  the  immensity  of 
the  work  she  had  achieved  on  two  continents,  she  yet 
shrank  in  utter  aversion  from  what  seemed  to  her  the 
degradation  of  mere  public  notoriety. 

Two  equally  strong,  but  totally  contrasted,  natures 
lay  in  her :  the  one  the  outcome  of  a  sensitive,  suffer- 
ing temperament,  instinctively  seeking  to  shield  itself 
from  gall  or  wound ;  the  other  born  of  the  fortitude 
of  a  martyr  in  fronting  danger,  loneliness,  and  ob- 
loquy, in  championing  the  cause  of  the  friendless  and 
"ready  to  perish."  To  all  this  must  be  added  a  depth 
of  self-abnegating  religious  faith  which  made  her  life 
one  long  struggle  to  prostrate  a  spirit  naturally  proud 
and  imperious  at  the  footstool  of  God,  in  the  lowly 
cry,  "  Not  unto  me,  not  unto  me,  but  unto  Thy  Name 
be  the  praise  !  " 

As  far  back  as  in  1851,  Mrs.  Sarah  J.  Hale,  then 
engaged  on  a  book  to  be  entitled  "  Lives  and  Charac- 
ters of  Distinguished  Women,"  applied  to  Miss  Dix 
for  data  from  which  to  write  an  account  of  her  career. 
To  this,  as  to  numberless  like  appeals,  Miss  Dix  re- 


PREFACE.  V 

plied  in  the  following  strain,  so  indicative  of  her  per- 
sistent feeling  in  the  matter :  — 

"  I  feel  it  right  to  say  to  you  frankly  that  nothing  could 
be  undertaken  which  would  give  me  more  pain  and  serious 
annoyance,  which  would  so  trespass  on  my  personal  rights, 
...  or  interfere  more  seriously  with  the  real  usefulness  of 
my  mission.  I  am  not  ambitious  of  nominal  distinctions, 
and  notoriety  is  my  special  aversion. 

"  My  reputation  and  my  services  belong  to  my  country. 
My  history  and  my  affections  are  consecrated  to  my  friends. 
It  will  be  soon  enough  when  the  angel  of  the  last  hour 
shall  have  arrested  my  labors  to  give  their  history  and  their 
results.  This  period  cannot  be  many  years  distant.  I 
confess  that  giving  unnecessary  publicity  to  women  while 
they  yet  live,  and  to  their  works,  seems  to  me  singularly  at 
variance  with  the  delicacy  and  modesty  which  are  the  most 
attractive  ornaments  of  their  sex." 

For  years  following,  such  ardent  friends  as  Hon. 
Alexander  Kandall,  of  Annapolis,  Maryland,  General 
John  A.  Dix,1  of  New  York,  and  Rev.  William  G. 
Eliot,  D.  D.,  of  St.  Louis,  importuned  her  not  to  suffer 
such  a  life-story  to  die  with  her.  Both  Mr.  Randall 
and  Dr.  Eliot  themselves  offered  to  write  out  a  detailed 

1  Though  always  beginning  his  letters  to  her  with  "Dear  Sister," 
no  traceable  relationship  existed  between  Miss  Dix  and  General  John 
A.  Dix.  Miss  Dix's  admiration,  however,  was  always  great  for  the 
man  who  united  such  varied  qualities  as  those  of  the  pure  states- 
man, the  brave  soldier  who  made  the  country  ring  with  his  "  If  any 
man  haul  down  the  American  flag,  shoot  him  on  the  spot,"  and  the 
Christian  scholar  who  gave  the  world  such  devout  and  beautiful  trans- 
lations of  mediaeval  Latin  hymns. 


vi  PREFACE. 

memorial  of  her  career,  if  only  she  would  dictate  to 
them  the  leading  incidents  and  supply  the  needful 
papers.  But  she  had  no  time  nor  inclination  to  turn 
aside.  Years  later,  however,  when  extreme  old  age 
had  rendered  the  further  prosecution  of  her  labors  an 
impossibility,  both  Mr.  Randall  and  General  Dix 
renewed  their  entreaties,  and  succeeded  in  extracting 
a  half  promise  from  her  to  make  out  needful  memo- 
randa and  reduce  the  confused  mass  of  her  papers  to 
some  kind  of  chronological  order. 

Thus  in  June,  1878,  a  letter  from  General  Dix  to 
Mr.  Randall  bears  witness  to  the  earnestness  with 
which  they  were  cooperating  toward  this  mutually 
desired  end :  — 

"  SEAFIELD,  WEST  HAMPTON,  N.  J.y 
June  25,  1878. 

"  MY  I>EAR  SIB,  —  I  wrote  to  Miss  Dix  urging  her  to 
make  full  notes  of  what  she  had  done  for  the  insane.  There 
is  no  record  like  hers,  — .  I  do  not  except  Howard  or  Mrs. 
Fry  ;  and  it  is  due  to  our  country  to  give  a  faithful  account 
of  the  labors  of  her  life.  ...  I  have  pressed  this  duty  on 
her  for  years,  and  trust  your  solicitations  and  those  of  other 
friends  may  decide  her  to  perform  it. 

"  Very  truly  yours,  JOHN  A.  Dix." 

Still  later  on,  Mr.  Randall  writes  urgently  to  Miss 
Dix  to  know  what  progress  has  been  made  toward  the 
fulfillment  of  the  promise  given :  — 

"  How  comes  on  the  Memoir  of  Miss  Dix  ?  You  owe  it 
to  our  country  properly  to  attend  to  it  yourself.  I  know 
you  will  not  charge  me  with  flattery  when  I  say  that  if  any 


PREFACE.  vil 

other  female  in  the  country  had  accomplished  half  as  much 
as  you,  you  would  have  procured  her  life  to  be  written  or 
written  it  yourself.  .  .  .  Pardon  my  plainness  and  repeated 
request  and  urgency  in  this  matter,  for  I  do  really  think 
such  a  life  as  yours  has  not  filled  up  its  measure  of  practical 
good  until  posterity  has  the  benefit  of  its  example." 

Two  short  extracts  from  replies  of  Miss  Dix  to  such 
letters  of  Mr.  Randall's  as  the  above  will  suffice  to 
show  how  baffling  to  her  mind  was  this  whole  bio- 
graphical matter :  — 

BOSTON,  MASS.,  October  13,  1870. 

"  I  assure  you  of  my  respect  for  your  opinions,  and  desire 
to  accept  and  act  upon  your  request,  if  I  can  feel  quickened 
to  this  burthensome  undertaking.  .  .  .  There  is,  I  think, 
great  difficulty  in  writing  of  one's  self :  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  present  subjects,  where  the  chief  actor  must  be  conspicu- 
ous, and  not  seem  to  be,  or  really  be,  egotistical.  Then, 
much  of  my  work  has  been  where  neglects  and  omissions 
demanded  remonstrance  and  persistent  efforts  for  reforms 
and  amended  usages,  implying  much  wrong  on  the  part  of 
others,  who  must  be  at  the  least  noticed  as  blameworthy 
through  either  habitual  negligence  or  willful  wrong." 

TRENTON,  N.  J.,  May  10, 1880. 

"  I  have  found  myself  pressed  under  the  obligation  of  a 
promise  to  yourself,  at  once  honorable  to  fulfill  and  yet  most 
difficult  and  oppressive  to  carry  forward.  It  is  impossible 
for  any  one  to  realize  how  painful  it  is  to  rouse  from  within 
a  half  century's  painful  past,  embracing  every  form  and  con- 
dition of  distress,  suffering,  misery  and  adversity.  .  .  .  Lan- 
guage seems  to  lose  force  and  words  to  define  weakly  what 


viii  PREFACE. 

has  been  and  now  is,  in  the  present  hour  as  in  the  expired 
years.  I  cannot,  my  valued  friend,  bring  into  order  suitably 
for  a  brief  memoir  any  written  details  that  seem  to  me  fitly 
to  convey  to  any  reader  what  cannot  be  realized,  because 
there  is  no  relative  standard  of  contrast  or  comparison. 
The  whole  of  my  years,  from  the  age  of  ten  to  the  present, 
differ  essentially  from  the  experience  and  pursuits  of  those 
around  me." 

Yet  one  more  ground  of  reluctance  on  the  part  of 
Miss  Dix  to  having  any  record  of  her  life  given  to  the 
world  must  here  in  conclusion  be  noted.  It  was  one 
frequently  emphasized  by  her,  and  is  too  characteris- 
tic alike  of  the  pity  of  her  heart  and  of  her  habitual 
way  of  looking  on  her  own  exceptional  history  to  be 
omitted.  Such  an  account,  she  feared,  would  exert 
an  unhealthy  influence  in  inducing  romantic  young 
women  to  think  it  their  mission  to  undertake  some 
work  of  a  similar  kind.  "  No,  let  them  fall  in  love, 
marry,  and  preside  over  a  happy  home,"  she  would 
say ;  "  it  will  be  a  thousand  times  better  for  them." 
She  who  had  never  known  the  meaning  of  home,  even 
in  childhood,  who  had  led  a  lonely  and  wandering  life, 
who  had  carried  ever  in  her  heart  an  unsatisfied  yearn- 
ing after  those  closer  ties  which  unite  human  beings 
in  the  heaven  of  tender  family  relations ;  she,  too, 
who,  in  her  redeeming  career  of  half  a  century,  had 
sounded  all  the  depths  of  human  misery,  and  knew 
how  stern  the  conflict  and  cruel  the  wounds  inevitable 
in  a  lifelong  struggle  to  secure  redress,  felt,  as  none  who 
had  not  shared  the  like  experience  could  feel,  that 


PREFACE.  ix 

nothing  short  of  an  irresistible  call  from  God  should 
induce  any  one  to  embark  on  such  a  work. 

The  result  of  these  persistent  solicitations  was  that 
toward  the  very  close  of  her  life,  when  well-nigh  help- 
less with  disease,  Miss  Dix  made  faltering  attempts 
to  reduce  her  papers  to  order.  She  was  then  too  feeble 
for  the  task,  and  they  were  left  in  a  state  of  great  con- 
fusion. Shortly  before  her  death,  however,  she  gave 
to  her  trusted  friend  and  executor,  Mr.  Horace  A. 
Lamb,  of  Boston,  her  full  consent  that,  if  such  re- 
mained his  final  judgment,  the  papers  might  be  used 
in  the  preparation  of  a  memoir  of  her  life  and  work. 
Unfortunately,  in  what  must  be  regarded  as  a  mis- 
taken sense  of  the  duty  of  self-effacement,  she  had  pre- 
viously issued  positive  commands  to  her  many  friends 
to  destroy  her  own  private  letters.  A  few  of  these 
friends  happily  refused  to  obey  the  injunction,  and 
to  their  pious  care  for  her  memory  is  it  alone  due 
that  any  vivid  picture  can  at  this  date  be  drawn  of 
her. 

The  writer  of  her  biography  would  take  this  occa- 
sion to  express  his  sense  of  great  personal  obligation 
to  Miss  Augusta  I.  Appleton,  of  the  Boston  Athe- 
naeum, and  to  Miss  Katharine  H.  Stone,  for  their  pa- 
tient and  discriminating  labor  in  reducing  the  original 
chaos  of  the  papers  to  any  kind  of  manageable  order. 
Also,  to  the  superintendents  of  insane  asylums  in 
many  quarters  of  the  United  States  and  of  Canada, 
especially  to  Dr.  John  S.  Butler,  Dr.  John  W.  Ward, 
Dr.  Charles  H.  Nichols,  and  Dr.  Horace  A.  But- 


X  PREFACE. 

tolph;  to  Daniel  Hack  Tuke,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  C.  P., 
of  Hanwell,  England,  and  to  William  Kathbone, 
Esq.,  M.  P.,  of  Liverpool;  as  well  as  to  numerous 
private  friends  of  Miss  Dix,  he  would  here  record 
his  cordial  thanks  for  constant  courtesy  and  invalua- 
ble aid. 

F.  T. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  February  16, 1890. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY 


CHAPTER  II. 
BEGINS  TEACHING  IN  BOSTON .    14 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  ISLAND  OF  ST.  CROES 27 

CHAPTER  IV. 
-   THE  MODEL  SCHOOL  AND  ITS  PENALTY 35 

CHAPTER  V. 
IN  LIVERPOOL,  ENGLAND 44 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  OLDER  THEORIES  OF  INSANITY 53 

CHAPTER  VII. 
o    THE  BREAKING  OF  A  NEW  DAY 60 

CHAPTER  VIH. 
o   THE  DESCENT  INTO  INFERNO 73 

CHAPTER  IX. 

C      SUCCESS  OF  THE  FlRST   MEMORIAL          .  .83 


CHAPTER  X. 
RHODE  ISLAND  NEXT 94 

CHAPTER  XI. 
MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD 104 


LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 
CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTH   AND  ANCESTRY. 

THOUGH  by  ancestry  and  subsequent  education  a 
Massachusetts  woman,  Dorothea  (christened  Doro- 
thy) Lynde  Dix  was  born,  April  4, 1802,  in  the  State 
of  Maine.  Her  birth  occurred  during  a  temporary 
stay  of  her  parents  in  the  town  of  Hampden,  on  the 
Penobscot  River ;  one,  in  fact,  of  the  very  many 
places  in  which  her  father,  who  was  of  an  unstable 
and  wandering  turn  of  mind,  appears  for  a  short  time 
to  have  lived.  Indeed,  this  instability  of  character 
on  the  part  of  Joseph  Dix,  the  father,  together  with 
the  frequent  changes  of  residence  and  occupation  it 
involved,  makes  it  impossible  to  trace  with  any  pre- 
cision the  various  stages  of  the  early  childhood  of  his 
later  so  remarkable  daughter. 

Glimpses  of  this  childhood  are  lighted  on  at  various 
spots  in  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  and  Vermont,  as 
well  as  in  "Worcester  and  Boston,  Massachusetts.  So 
painful,  however,  to  the  subsequent  woman  always 
remained  the  memory  of  its  bitterness  that  in  no  hour 
of  the  most  confidential  intimacy  could  she  be  induced 
to  unlock  the  silence  which  to  the  very  end  of  life  she 
maintained  as  to  all  the  incidents  of  her  early  days. 


LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX, 

As  throwing  light  on  the  development  of  character 
in  a  woman  of  the  ultimate  stamp  of  Miss  Dix,  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  hint,  at  least,  at  the  peculiar  na- 
ture of  the  trials  to  which  she  was  so  early  subjected. 
They  were  the  trials  that  inevitably  follow  in  the 
track  of  a  shiftless,  aimless,  and  wandering  life,  — 
poverty,  lack  of  public  respect,  the  absence  of  perma- 
nency of  relation  with  schools,  churches,  and  a  circle 
of  endeared  and  sympathetic  friends.  Among  the 
abnormal  tendencies  of  the  father  was  one  of  subjec- 
tion to  states  of  fanatical  religious  excitement,  during 
which  he  became  wholly  engrossed  in  writing  and  issu- 
ing tracts,  the  supreme  importance  of  which  to  the 
world's  salvation  outweighed  in  his  mind  every  ques- 
tion of  the  material  maintenance  and  needful  educa- 
tion of  his  family.  These  tracts  the  little  Dorothy, 
then  twelve  years  old,  and  for  the  time  being  in  Wor- 
cester, Massachusetts,  was,  to  save  expense,  set  so 
continuously  to  pasting  and  stitching  together  that,  in 
her  revolt  at  the  hateful  task  —  so  the  seemingly  au- 
thentic story  has  come  down,  —  she  ran  away  from 
Worcester,  and  put  herself  under  the  protection  of  her 
grandmother,  then  resident  in  Boston.  A  proud, 
ambitious,  and  high-spirited  child,  —  her  paternal 
grandmother  living  in  considerable  wealth  and  dig- 
nity, —  she  appears  to  have  suffered  much  the  same 
misery  of  humiliation  at  being  cut  off  from  advan- 
tages of  education  and  kept  at  menial  tasks  which 
Charles  Dickens  so  painfully  analyzes  in  the  picture 
he  draws  of  his  own  boy-apprenticeship  in  the  black- 
ing-factory. Thus  the  acute  sensitiveness  of  fibre  and 
high  sense  of  personal  dignity  so  characteristic  of  the 
mature  woman  were  manifest  from  the  very  start. 

Very  early  in  life,  then,  was  the  self-reliant  and  in- 


BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY.  3 

domitable  nature  of  the  child  rudely  awakened  to  the 
necessity  of  resolutely  fronting  the  world  and  fighting 
her  way  on  her  own  resources.  In  seeking  refuge  in 
her  grandmother's  house,  she  saw  the  only  chance 
open  to  her  of  securing  a  fit  education.  She  had  at 
this  time  a  much  younger  brother,  born  ten  years 
later  than  herself,  toward  whom  she  felt  the  duty 
would  surely  devolve  on  her  of  becoming  protectress 
and  child-mother.  The  first  step  to  the  possibility 
of  this  lay  in  achieving  independence  for  herself,  a 
conviction  increased  in  strength  when,  in  the  follow- 
ing year,  another  brother  was  born.  Break  through 
these  trammels  of  poverty  and  humiliation  she  must ; 
force  her  way  out  to  some  pecuniary  basis  she  must. 
Eager  for  knowledge,  ambitious  for  more  refined  anct 
intellectual  social  opportunities,  loaded  down  already 
with  a  premature  sense  of  responsibility,  thus  early 
had  the  iron  entered  her  soul,  and  the  conviction  been 
developed  in  her  of  the  reality  and  sharpness  of  the 
battle  of  life. 

From  what  ancestral  source,  then,  it  is  natural  to 
ask,  had  descended  to  the  child  this  self-reliant  will, 
this  indomitable  resolve  to  open  up  for  herself  a  career 
of  her  own,  together  with  so  high  wrought  a  sense  of 
moral  obligation  ?  All  the  more  natural  is  it  to  ask 
this  question,  seeing  that  her  immediate  parents  were 
lacking  in  energetic  fibre. 

Very  common  is  it  to  notice  that  salient  family 
traits  overleap  one  entire  generation  only  to  reappear 
in  renewed  force  in  the  generation  following.  Em- 
phatically was  this  the  case  in  the  instance  before  us. 
The  paternal  grandfather  and  grandmother  of  Doro- 
thea were  persons  of  very  marked  characteristics,  — 
characteristics  which  in  a  more  refined  and  spiritual- 


4  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

ized  shape,  and  enlisted  in  the  service  of  an  impas- 
sioned idea,  took  higher  though  kindred  shape  in  the 
grandchild.  These  furnished  the  vigorous  native 
stock  into  which  evolving  Providence  was  to  engraft 
scions  capable  of  more  sweetly-perfumed  flowers  and 
of  fruit  of  a  richer  flavor. 

Dr.  Elijah  Dix,  the  grandfather,  was  born,  August 
24,  1747,  in  Watertown,  Massachusetts.  Of  sound 
old  New  England  stock,  but  poor,  as  were  most  chil- 
dren of  large  families  in  the  colonial  days,  he  had  his 
own  way  to  make  in  the  world.  Struggling  doughtily 
for  such  desultory  education  as  he  could  secure,  his 
aspirations  were  none  the  less  high,  and  to  be  satisfied 
with  nothing  short  of  fitting  himself  for  one  of  the 
learned  professions,  as,  in  those  days,  theology,  law, 
and  medicine  were  —  perhaps  we  should  now  think 
somewhat  humorously  —  termed.  A  college  career  he 
could  not  compass.  Effecting,  however,  an  arrange- 
ment with  Dr.  John  Green,  an  eminent  practitioner  in 
Worcester,  he  spent  with  him  three  years,  engaged  in 
compounding  medicines  and  studying  the  theoretical 
part  of  the  profession ;  and  after  supplementing  this 
term  with  two  more  years  under  William  Greenleaf, 
druggist  of  Boston,  he  began  practice  in  1770  as  phy- 
sician and  surgeon  in  Worcester. 

The  characteristics  of  the  young  man  eminently 
fitted  him  for  worldly  success.  Strong  in  body,  cour- 
ageous and  self-asserting  in  temperament,  ambitious 
of  power  and  position,  nothing  daunted  him.  And 
yet  along  with  these  qualities,  whose  aggressive  ex- 
cess rendered  him  highly  unpopular,  he  united  a  large 
degree  of  public  spirit  and  of  far-sighted  practical 
judgment.  As  he  rose  to  position  and  could  make 
his  influence  felt,  he  was  the  first  man  in  Worcester  to 


BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY.  5 

advocate  by  precept  and  example  the  planting  of  shade 
trees  for  the  adornment  of  the  town,  —  a  remarkable 
idiosyncrasy  of  taste,  it  was  thought,  at  a  period  in 
our  colonial  history  when,  in  the  weary  struggle  of 
the  early  settlers  with  the  primeval  forests,  a  tree  was 
looked  upon  as  as  natural  an  enemy  of  man  as  a  bear 
or  an  Indian.  He  was  further  a  zealous  promoter  of 
all  means  of  opening  up  the  country  for  freer  trade 
and  social  intercourse,  as,  notably,  in  the  instance  of 
the  Worcester  and  Boston  turnpike.  Those  were  the 
days  when  the  title  of  "  Pontifex  Maximus  "  meant 
something,  and  was  not  worn  as  an  idle  badge  of 
honor  by  emperors  and  popes.  As  an  instance,  more- 
over, of  his  sturdy  honesty,  it  may  be  stated  that,  at 
the  end  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  he  crossed  the 
ocean  to  settle  his  financial  accounts  with  his  former 
associate  in  medical  practice,  Dr.  Sylvester  Gardiner, 
and  to  pay  over  what  he  considered  fairly  the  due  of 
his  partner.  This  Dr.  Gardiner  had,  at  the  outbreak 
of  disturbance  with  the  mother  country,  taken  the 
royalist  side,  and  so  been  forced,  as  a  refugee,  to  flee 
the  colony.  As  a  stanch  patriot,  Dr.  Dix  might 
have  felt  himself  entirely  absolved  from  handing  over 
a  penny  to  one  whom  it  was  only  needful  to  stigmatize 
as  a  traitor.  As  an  honest  man,  however,  he  did  not 
feel  himself  thus  absolved. 

Returning  home  from  England  with  a  large  collec- 
tion of  books,  surgical  instruments,  and  chemical  appa- 
ratus, Dr.  Dix  now  engaged  in  the  sale  of  such  articles, 
pursued  his  medical  practice,  and  projected  with  great 
ardor  the  plan  of  an  academy.  In  spite,  however,  of 
acknowledged  ability  and  public  spirit,  his  dictatorial 
ways  made  him  so  unpopular  with  his  fellow-citizens 
that  a  plot  was  laid  to  drive  him  out  of  the  town, 


6  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

or  at  any  rate  to  subject  him  to  personal  violence. 
Suspecting  what  was  on  foot,  he,  at  the  first  sign  of 
practical  action,  proved  himself  entirely  equal  to  the 
emergency.  One  evening  a  man  called  at  his  house 
to  summon  him  to  the  sick-bed  of  a  pretended  patient, 
living  several  miles  out  of  town,  and  on  the  road  to 
whose  house,  as  later  appeared,  an  attacking  party  had 
placed  itself  in  ambush.  The  sturdy  doctor  promptly 
expressed  his  professional  willingness  to  go,  taking 
the  precaution,  however,  to  throw  open  the  window 
and  call  out  in  stentorian  tones  to  his  man-servant, 
"  Bring  round  my  horse  at  once ;  see  that  the  pistols 
in  my  holsters  are  double-shotted  ;  then  give  the  bull- 
dog a  piece  of  raw  meat  and  turn  him  loose  to  go 
along !  "  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  friend  of  the 
imaginary  sick  man  "  folded  his  tents  like  the  Arabs, 
and  silently  stole  away." 

With  the  view  of  opening  up  to  himself  a  still  wider 
field  of  activity,  Dr.  Elijah  Dix,  in  1795,  seven  years 
before  the  birth  of  Dorothea,  removed  to  Boston, 
where  he  established  a  drug  store  on  the  south  side  of 
Faneuil  Hall,  and  further  founded  in  South  Boston 
chemical  works  for  refining  sulphur  and  purifying  cam- 
phor. Successful  in  these  enterprises,  his  indomitable 
energy  next  sought  vent  in  large  land  speculations  in 
the  State  of  Maine,  in  which  State  he  purchased  im- 
mense tracts,  —  buying  in  one  instance  twenty  thou- 
sand acres  for  the  site  of  a  single  projected  farming 
village,  and  becoming  founder  of  the  towns  of  Dixmont 
and  Dixfield,  the  settlers  in  which  obtained  the  titles 
to  their  farms  from  him.  This  diversion  of  interests 
on  the  part  of  Dr., Elijah  Dix  henceforth  necessitated 
his  making  frequent  journeys  to  Maine  to  see  after 
his  property  there,  on  one  of  which  visits  he  died. 


BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY.  7 

His  death  occurred  June  7,  1809,  and  liis  body  was 
interred  in  the  burial-ground  near  Dixmont  Centre. 
Thus  easily  is  the  birth  of  his  granddaughter  Dorothea 
in  Hampden,  Maine,  accounted  for.  Hampden  lies 
at  but  a  short  distance  from  Dixmont,  and  was  then 
the  only  town  in  the  section  of  sufficient  size  to  fur- 
nish decent  quarters.  No  doubt  Dr.  Elijah  Dix  had 
attempted  to  make  his  son  Joseph  his  agent  for  over- 
seeing and  disposing  of  the  Maine  lands. 

The  salient  traits,  then,  of  the  character  of  Dr.  Eli- 
jah Dix  were  indomitable  energy  and  spirit  of  initia- 
tive in  new  enterprises,  fertility  of  resource,  dogged 
honesty,  large  public  spirit,  and  a  masterful  tempera- 
ment that  would  ride  over  obstacles,  no  matter  at  what 
cost  of  personal  popularity.  Though  but  seven  years 
old  when  her  grandfather  died,  Dorothea  always  re- 
tained a  vivid  remembrance  of  what  she  saw  of  him  in 
Boston  in  her  childhood,  particularly  of  his  fondness 
for  driving  her  around  with  him  in  his  chaise,  and  of 
talking  with  her  in  his  strong  and  racy  way.  He 
stood  out  the  one  bright  spot  in  her  earliest  memories, 
implanting  in  her  mind  a  life-long  admiration  for  his 
robust  and  picturesque  qualities.  Indeed,  of  the  many 
great  asylums  for  the  insane  which  she  was  later  in- 
strumental in  founding,  the  only  one  she  ever  per- 
mitted to  be  associated  with  her  own  name,  was  Dix- 
mout  Hospital,  in  Pennsylvania,  a  concealed  tribute  to 
her  grandfather,  as  founder  of  the  town  of  Dixmont, 
Maine. 

After  the  death  of  Dr.  Elijah  Dix,  his  widow  lived 
on  in  Boston,  occupying  the,  for  those  days,  quite 
stately  house  which  went  by  the  name  of  the  Dix 
Mansion.  It  was  in  the  large  garden  surrounding 
this  house  that,  from  some  chance  seed,  sprang  the 


8  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

celebrated  Dix  pear,  —  one  of  those  Melchisedecs  in 
pomology,  without  father  and  without  mother,  which, 
like  the  far-famed  Seckel,  originated  from  the  start 
an  illustrious  family  of  its  own.  Here,  then,  continued 
to  reside  the  widow  of  Dr.  Elijah  Dix,  who  was  des- 
tined to  survive  her  husband  twenty-eight  years,  dying 
only  at  the  late  date  of  April  29, 1837.  As  one  whose 
personal  qualities  and  peculiar  position  as  head  of  the 
house  exercised  in  many  ways  a  marked  influence  on 
the  development  of  her  granddaughter,  it  is  necessary 
briefly  to  speak  of  her  prominent  characteristics. 

Dorothy  Lynde,  born  May  23,  1746,  and  married, 
October  1,  1771,  to  Dr.  Elijah  Dix,  was  the  daughter 
of  Joseph  Lynde,  who,  after  the  burning  of  Charles- 
town,  Mass.,  by  the  British  troops,  sought  refuge  with 
his  wife  and  children  in  Worcester.  Already  far 
advanced  in  life  when,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  her  grand- 
daughter became  a  member  of  her  family,  Madam  Dix 
was  a  typical  example  of  the  New  England  Puritan 
gentlewoman  of  the  period,  —  dignified,  precise,  inflex- 
ibly conscientious,  unimaginative,  and  without  trace 
of  emotional  glow  or  charm.  For  generations,  indeed, 
it  had  been  the  outcome  of  the  Puritan  training  of 
New  England  to  produce  a  class  of  mothers  unflinch- 
ingly nerved,  if  need  be,  to  die  at  the  stake  for  their 
children,  but  whom  no  threat  of  penal  fires  would 
have  betrayed  into  the  weakness  of  kissing  them  good- 
night; and  as  these  mothers  duly  advanced  to  the 
dignified  stage  of  grandmothers,  the  tendency  became 
ever  more  sharply  accentuated. 

Indeed,  for  simple  emotional  love  as  a  fountain 
leaping  up  in  sallies  of  playful  tenderness,  the  major- 
ity of  the  parents  of  those  now  far-away  days  in  which 
Madam  Dix  had  received  the  earliest  stamp  of  the 


BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY.  9 

chilled-steel  parental  die  shared  no  more  sympathetic 
a  response  than  a  mill-engineer  for  the  poetry  of  the 
charming  cascades  of  the  stream  he  seeks  to  utilize 
for  grinding  the  corn  and  weaving  the  cloth  of  the 
people.  To  save  waste  of  available  power  and  to  di- 
vert the  full  emotional  flow  into  a  strong-banked, 
prosaic  race-way,  from  which  the  full  head  could  be 
turned  on  to  the  practical  work  of  making  the  jackets 
and  knitting  the  socks  of  the  young,  of  training  them 
to  habits  of  rigid  industry,  of  exacting  iron  diligence 
over  the  school  lessons,  and  of  inculcating  the  dogmas 
of  the  catechism  in  a  way  to  make  them  a  salutary 
terror  for  life,  —  this  seemed  the  only  aspect  of  the 
divine  quality  of  love  which  could  be  reconciled  with 
a  severe  sense  of  duty,  and  saved  from  the  fatal  dan- 
ger of  degenerating'  into  luxurious  and  enervating  sen- 
timentalism.  There  were  good  sides  to  this  extreme, 
and  there  were  very  bad  ones.  It  insured  a  Spartan 
discipline  of  education  which  put  bark  and  iron  into 
the  blood.  But  it  steadily  atrophied,  and,  as  years 
advanced,  actually  ossified,  the  lovelier  and  sunnier  ca- 
pacities of  affection,  opening  up  an  impassable  abyss 
between  old  age  and  the  sensitive,  clinging  heart  of 
childhood. 

To  Madam  Dix,  then,  and  to  the  old  Dix  Mansion, 
the  child  Dorothea  owed,  on  the  one  hand,  a  debt  of 
lasting  obligation,  and,  on  the  other,  years  of  acute 
suffering  and  heart-starvation.  When  she  sought  ref- 
uge from  the  unendurable  humiliation  of  her  life  in 
Worcester,  it  was  to  her  grandmother's  house  that  she 
came,  and  here  she  secured  the  advantages  of  several 
years  of  school  education.  It  was  a  grim  and  joyless 
home,  but  none  the  less  it  was  a  home  in  which  she 
was  trained  to  habits  of  unremitting  diligence.  No 


10  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

waste  of  time  was  permitted,  no  task  allowed  to  be 
done  in  a  slipshod  way.  Here  was  a  child,  the  grand- 
mother felt,  who  would  have  her  own  way  to  make  in 
the  world,  and  who,  as  early  as  possible,  would  have 
to  become  the  mainstay  of  her  family.  She  must  fit 
herself,  then,  for  some  occupation  by  which  she  could 
win  her  bread.  It  would  be  cruelty  to  bring  her  up 
with  any  other  idea.  In  all  this  Madam  Dix  unques- 
tionably felt  that  she  was  fulfilling  the  whole  law  of 
love,  and  doing  unto  another  as  she  at  least  ought  to 
desire  that  another  should  do  unto  her.  Still,  to  the 
child  who  was  immature  enough  to  crave  a  little  play, 
a  little  petting,  and  a  little  romance,  the  process 
seemed  no  doubt  very  chilling  and  severe. 

In  later  life,  people  come  to  be  grateful  for  many 
things  which  in  childhood  looked  only  hard  and  cruel. 
The  day  was  to  arrive  when  Miss  Dix,  in  her  watch- 
ful supervision  of  vast  institutions  for  the  relief  of 
human  misery,  —  institutions,  in  which  failure  in  the 
minutest  detail  of  organization  might  lead  to  the  most 
tragic  results  —  was  to  prove  the  invaluable  benefit  of 
this  minute  and  rigid  training. 

Stern  and  unrelenting  as  it  was,  the  grandmother 
had,  after  all,  an  ideal  of  her  own  as  to  the  thorough- 
ness with  which  every  piece  of  work  should  be  done, 
which  was  a  true  ideal.  Indeed,  there  still  lives  in 
Massachusetts  a  lady,  who  —  after  the  school  was 
later  on  established  in  the  old  Dix  Mansion,  as  will 
soon  be  recounted  —  describes,  as  one  of  the  most  in- 
delible memories  of  her  own  childhood  days,  how,  as 
an  especial  reward  for  excellence  in  moral  conduct, 
she  herself  was  allowed  the  unusual  privilege  of  mak- 
ing an  entire  shirt  under  the  Rhadaman thine  eye  of 
Madam  Dix.  The  sense  of  moral  responsibility  pre- 


BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY.  11 

cipitated  on  the  poor  child  was  literally  crushing,  as 
now  first  the  startling  revelation  broke  on  her  mind 
of  the  eternal  distinction  between  the  right  way  and 
the  wrong  way  in  the  minutest  particulars.  Of  the 
thousands  of  stitches  entering  into  the  awe-inspiring 
structure,  not  one  must  differ  from  another  to  a  degree 
that  could  be  detected  by  a  micrometer.  The  one  and 
only  immutably  correct  way  of  cutting  and  fitting  the 
neck-band  seemed  far  more  out  of  the  range  of  mortal 
possibility  than  the  camel's  passage  through  the  eye 
of  a  needle.  And  yet  to  this  day  the  lady  frankly 
admits  that,  well-nigh  fatal  as  the  strain  proved  at 
the  time,  the  benefit  was  lifelong  of  having  thus  been 
made  to  do  at  least  one  piece  of  work  thoroughly  well. 
Indeed,  she  still  speaks  of  the  experience  in  the  same 
vein  of  enthusiastic  gratitude  in  which  here  and  there 
a  veteran  scholar  descants  on  the  intellectual  bark  and 
iron  put  into  him  by  the  inexorable  discipline  of  the 
classics,  in  the  heroic  days  when,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Latin  master,  a  misplaced  particle  in  a  sentence  was 
as  unpardonable  a  sin  as  was,  in  the  eyes  of  Madam 
Dix,  a  misplaced  stitch  in  a  shirt. 

Meanwhile,  the  passionate,  craving  heart  of  the 
child  had  to  get  along  as  best  it  could.  She  had  her 
bread,  though  it  was  often  wet  with  salt  tears.  She 
had  shelter,  education,  and  oversight ;  the  oversight 
no  doubt  bestowed  in  what  was  felt  to  be  absolute 
fidelity  to  the  clearest  sense  of  duty.  But  as  for  a 
warm  breast  and  loving  arms  in  which  to  nestle  and 
confide,  this  the  kind  heavens  did  not  grant  her.  In 
bitter  intensity  of  grief  would  she  at  times  in  later 
life  break  out  over  this  irremediable  loss  in  her  child- 
hood days.  "  I  never  knew  childhood !  "  she  would 
passionately  exclaim.  And  it  was  true.  To  become 


12  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

independent  in  means,  to  educate  herself  for  a  posi- 
tion that  would  command  support  and  respect,  to  be 
able  to  get  her  two  younger  brothers  under  the  same 
roof  with  her,  and  enact  the  part  of  child-mother 
to  them  —  this  early  developed  into  the  indomitable 
purpose  of  her  life.  There  was  in  those  days  but  one 
career  of  independence  a  growing  girl  could  look 
forward  to,  —  the  vocation  of  the  teacher.  Happily, 
preparation  for  this  calling  was  in  the  line  of  the 
deepest  instincts  of  her  nature.  These  were  at  that 
time  thirst  for  knowledge  and  longing  to  exert  direct 
moral  influence. 

The  first  authentic  date  of  any  attempt  at  teaching 
on  the  part  of  the  ardent  young  girl  is  her  opening 
a  school  for  little  children  in  Worcester,  Mass.,  in 
1816—17.  She  was  then  fourteen  years  old,  and  so 
girlish  in  look  that,  as  she  herself  tells  the  story,  she 
thought  it  necessary  to  put  on  long  skirts  and  lengthen 
the  sleeves  of  her  dress,  so  as  to  command  due  respect 
by  a  more  adult  appearance.  There  still  lives  in 
Worcester  one  of  these  pupils,  who  vividly  recalls  the 
child-teacher  as  tall  for  her  age,  easily  blushing,  at 
once  beautiful  and  imposing  in  manner,  but  inexo- 
rably strict  in  discipline.  The  skirt  and  sleeves  of  a 
grown  woman  were,  this  lady  thinks,  in  no  way  neces- 
sary to  secure  for  the  young  girl  absolute  ascendency 
over  her  pupils.  v  She  bore  the  stamp  of  authority 
from  the  start.  Herself  brought  up  in  a  stern  school, 
she  had  at  that  date  little  idea  of  any  government  but 
the  government  of  will.  Indeed,  it  is  always  charac- 
teristic of  very  young  people,  abruptly  forced  to  play 
the  role  of  maturity  and  experience,  that  they  overdo 
things.  They  show  this  fault  in  teaching  their 
younger  brothers  and  sisters  at  home,  and  they  fall 


BIRTH  AND  ANCESTRY.  13 

into  it  in  a  still  more  pronounced  way  when,  on  taking 
charge  of  a  school,  they  think  it  incumbent  on  them, 
as  perhaps  it  is,  to  assert  themselves  from  the  outset. 
Thus,  the  impression  left  on  the  minds  of  the  little 
girls  and  boys  in  Worcester  by  their  fourteen-year-old 
teacher,  so  far  from  being  that  of  a  half-grown  girl 
they  could  venture  to  trifle  with,  was  that  of  one 
of  whom  they  stood  in  fea& 

In  truth,  now  first  manifested  itself  the  instinctive 
consciousness  of  a  nature  born  to  rule,  and  seizing  the 
first  swift  and  ready  way.  Into  what  a  furnace  of 
pain  and  affliction  that  nature  was  to  be  baptized  be- 
fore it  could  be  duly  refined  and  tempered ;  through 
what  years  of  lonely  wrestlings,  battle  with  disease, 
submission  of  an  iron  will  to  the  counsels  of  a  Holier 
Might,  it  was  to  pass  before  she  should  become  fitted 
to  rule  as  justly,  mercifully,  and  yet  imperially  as 
she  finally  came  to  rule,  —  all  this  lay  happily  hidden 
from  her  in  the  womb  of  the  slowly  unfolding  future. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BEGINS   TEACHING   IN   BOSTON. 

FOR  several  years  after  the  experiment  with  the 
child-school  in  Worcester,  in  1816—17,  Miss  Dix  ap- 
pears to  have  lived  with  her  grandmother  in  Boston, 
her  leisure  devoted  to  carrying  on  her  own  studies  in 
preparation  for  opening  a  school  for  older  pupils. 
Though  then  but  a  town  of  forty  thousand  inhabi- 
tants, Boston  was  already  giving  signs  of  an  intellec- 
tual ferment  in  theology,  philanthropy,  philosophy, 
and  literature,  which  was  to  inaugurate  a  new  epoch 
in  the  spiritual  history  of  New  England.  The  day  of 
provincialism  was  passing  away.  Higher  ideals  of 
God  and  of  human  destiny  were  breaking  in,  and 
young  and  ardent  minds,  emancipating  themselves 
from  the  cramping  traditions  of  the  past,  already  felt 
that  the  long,  weary  sojourn  in  the  wilderness  was 
over,  and  that,  standing  at  last  on  Pisgah,  they  could 
overlook  a  veritable  Land  of  Promise.  None  en- 
tered more  earnestly  into  certain  phases  of  this  spir- 
itual rebirth,  or  hailed  more  rapturously  its  prophets 
of  the  type  of  Channing,  than  did  Miss  Dix. 

Not,  probably,  before  the  year  1821  did  she  resume 
the  actual  work  of  teaching,  beginning  with  classes  of 
day-pupils,  in  a  little  house  of  her  grandmother's  in 
Orange  Court,  and  only  by  degrees,  raising  the  stan- 
dard, till  the  modest  beginning  finally  developed  into  a 
combined  boarding  and  day  school  in  the  Dix  Man- 


BEGINS  TEACHING  IN  BOSTON.      15 

sion  itself,  to  which  children  were  sent  from  the  most 
prominent  families  in  Boston,  as  well  as  from  towns 
as  far  away  as  then  was  Portsmouth,  N.  H.  Later  on 
she  was  to  have  her  younger  brothers  with  her  under 
the  same  roof,  and  was  to  become  practical  mistress 
of  the  Dix  Mansion.  The  increasing  infirmities  of 
the  grandmother  now  kept  her  largely  confined  to  her 
own  room,  an  added  care  of  no  slight  nature.  Thus  by 
degrees  were  devolved  upon  the  never  strong  young 
woman  the  duties  of  housekeeper,  teacher,  motherly 
elder  sister,  and  matron  of  the  boarding-pupils,  to- 
gether with  the  necessity  of  carrying  on  her  own  as 
yet  imperfect  intellectual  training,  —  duties  which  she 
assumed  with  unflinching  spirit.  Fond  of  responsi- 
bility, ambitious  of  success,  and  on  fire  with  an  ideal 
of  what  a  teacher  might  prove,  for  time  and  for 
eternity,  to  the  children  committed  to  her  care,  she 
took  no  thought  of  flesh  and  blood. 

Seemingly,  responsibilities  so  arduous  as  these 
would  have  been  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting 
conscience.  In  Miss  Dix's  case,  however,  there  was 
one  imperious  element  of  her  nature  which  they  alto- 
gether failed  to  content.  More  and  more  evident 
will  it  grow,  as  this  narrative  proceeds,  that  the  sense 
of  pitiful  compassion_J:oji^J^i|^ 
suffermg^~was  the  strongest  element  in  her  being. 
She  would  work  for  herself  now,  for  work  she  must ; 
she  would  work  for  her  younger  brothers  till  they 
were  ready  to  go  forth  and  do  for  themselves;  but 
the  moment  she  should  stand  free,  then  beyond  all 
things  the  nearest  and  dearest  of  God's  privileges  to 
her  would  be  the  championship  of  the  outcast  and 
ready  to  perish.  Soon,  therefore,  besides  the  school  al- 
ready taxing  to  exhaustion  her  strength,  she  establishes 


16  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

another  in  a  room  over  the  stable  of  the  Dix  Man- 
sion v  for  poor  and  neglected  children.  How  pitifully 
she  had  to  plead  for  permission  to  do  this  comes  out 
touchingly  in  the  following  letter,  so  full  of  the  spirit 
of  merciful  humanity  then  first  beginning  its  struggle 
with  that  older  inflexible  temper  of  Puritanism,  which 
had  submissively  waited  on  adult  conversion  to  repair 
in  an  hour  the  results  of  years  of  indifference  and 
neglect.  The  letter  is  without  date,  but  belongs  early 
in  the  school-keeping  days. 

"  MY  DEAR  GRANDMOTHER,  —  Had  I  the  saint-like  elo- 
quence of  our  minister,  I  would  employ  it  in  explaining  all 
the  motives,  and  dwelling  on  all  the  good,  good  to  the  poor, 
the  miserable,  the  idle,  and  the  ignorant,  which  would  follow 
your  giving  me  permission  to  use  the  barn  chamber  for  a 
school-room  for  charitable  and  religious  purposes.  You 
have  read  Hannah  More's  life,  you  approve  of  her  labors 
for  the  most  degraded  of  England's  paupers  ;  why  not,  when 
it  can  be  done  without  exposure  or  expense,  let  me  rescue 
some  of  America's  miserable  children  from  vice  and  guilt  ? 
.  .  .  Do,  my  dear  grandmother,  yield  to  my  request,  and 
witness  next  summer  the  reward  of  your  benevolent  and 
Christian  compliance. 

"  Your  affectionate  Granddaughter,  D.  L.  Dix." 

Like  the  feeble  beginnings  in  another  "  upper  cham- 
ber "  in  Judaea,  this  early  attempt  at  stretching  out 
a  helping  hand  to  outcast  children,  was  to  lead  on  to 
far-reaching  results.  The  little  barn-school  proved  the 
nucleus  out  of  which,  years  later,  was  developed  the 
beneficent  work  of  the  Warren  Street  Chapel,  from 
which,  as  a  centre,  spread  far  and  wide  a  new  ideal 
of  dealing  with  childhood.  There  first  was  interest 
excited  in  the  mind  of  Rey._Charles  Barnard,  a  man 
of  positive  spiritual  genius  in  charming  and  uplifting 


BEGINS  TEACHING  IN  BOSTON.  17 

the  children  of  the  poor  and  debased.  With  all  the 
love  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  in  his  heart,  and  a  fund 
of  originality  in  devising  happy  ways  and  means,  the 
words  of  Jesus,  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come 
unto  me,"  were  the  very  breath  of  his  life.  And 
when  the  children  gladly  responded,  it  was  not  to  find 
themselves  tormented  with  rigid  catechising  and  a 
cast-iron  drill,  but  to  be  taken  into  open  arms  of 
love,  and  to  be  ushered  into  a  new  world  of  beauty 
and  freedom. 

In  the  year  1823,  Miss  Dix  began  a  correspond- 
ence, to  be  continued  at  intervals  for  fifty  years,  with 
a  dear  friend,  Miss  Anne  Heath,  of  Brookline,  Mass., 
but  for  the  preservation  of  which  no  adequate  picture 
could  be  drawn  of  the  early  womanhood  of  the  young 
teacher.  It  is  to  an  endeared  few  alone  that  person- 
alities of  the  inborn  reticence  of  Miss  Dix  are  ever 
able  to  reveal  their  inner  life.  And  yet  so  very  great 
is  oftentimes  the  contrast  between  the  maturer  bearing 
of  characters  marked  by  commanding  practical  ability, 
and  the  life  of  the  same  persons  in  the  romantic 
period  of  youth,  that  but  for  some  such  revelation 
the  hidingplace  of  their  power  would  go  uiisurmised. 
Indeed,  the  standing  marvel  of  psychological  history 
lies  in  the  imperceptible  steps  by  which  so  often  the 
sighs  and  tears  of  sentimental  feeling  lead  on  to  the 
masterly  self-control  and  disciplined  strength  of  ad- 
vancing years.  These  letters  furnish,  then,  but  one 
more  illustration  of  the  fact  that  a  certain  even  peril- 
ous excess  of  sensibility  will  be  found  at  the  root  of 
all  natures  that  ever  achieve  anything  high  and  heroic 
in  life. 

Emphatically  did  all  this  hold  true  of  the  youth  of 
the  subject  of  this  biography.  Self-repressed  and  self- 


18  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

mastered  as  later  on  she  outwardly  fronted  the  world, 
inwardly  her  soul  was  in  those  days  full  to  the  brim 
of  passion  and  heart-break,  of  poetic  enthusiasm  and 
religious  exaltation.  In  truth,  for  some  years  to  come, 
the  chief  faults  of  her  character  are  directly  traceable 
to  this.  Her  demands  on  herself,  her  demands  on 
her  friends,  her  demands  on  her  pupils,  were  out  of 
all  bounds.  She  herself  must  be  pure  spirit,  taking 
no  counsel  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  her  friends  must  be 
incarnations  of  every  attribute  of  intellect  and  every 
grace  of  soul ;  in  her  pupils  she  must  detect,  in  embryo 
at  least,  the  prophecy  of  the  coming  ideal  mothers  and 
saintly  helpers  of  the  world.  And  so  the  inevitable 
reaction  from  such  overwrought  expectations  was 
subjection  to  hours  of  bitter  disillusion  and  even  of 
passionate,  unjust  censure  of  average,  commonplace 
mortality. 

As  tending  to  foster  excess  of  sentimental  feeling,  it 
is  here  of  importance  to  note  the  habit,  in  those  days 
indulged  in  by  young  women,  of  voluminous,  effusive 
correspondence  with  one  another.  Their  letters,  with- 
out date  and  without  distinct  reference  to  anything  in 
time  or  space  that  would  enable  a  future  bewildered 
biographer  to  affix  to  them  "  a  local  habitation  and  a 
name,"  wandered  off  into  realms  of  purely  subjective 
poetry,  philanthropy,  philosophy,  and  religion.  And 
yet  what  intensity  of  inward  life  these  letters  reveal ! 
Anything  was  enough  to  start  one  of  them.  —  the 
death  of  an  infant,  a  peculiarly  beautiful  sunset,  a 
new  volume  of  poetry,  an  inspiring  or  heart-searching 
passage  in  the  sermon  of  the  previous  Sunday  ;  and 
then  would  they  roll  on  through  literally  continental 
sheets  of  paper,  to  all  the  length  and  with  all  the  vol- 
ume of  the  Mississippi. 


BEGINS   TEACHING  IN  BOSTON.  19 

Far  easier  is  it  to  give  an  idea  of  the  character  of 
these  letters  by  example  than  by  description.  The 
method  of  illustration  by  extracts  is  of  course  exposed 
to  the  danger  of  conveying  entirely  erroneous  impres- 
sions of  brevity.  None  the  less  it  may  impart  a  sense 
of  the  spirit  of  these  copious  interchanges  of  thought 
and  feeling.  First,  then,  let  the  following  serve  as  a 
commentary  on  the  intensity  with  which  poetry  was 
in  those  days  read  by  passionate  young  women,  — 
those  days  of  comparatively  few  books,  in  which  a 
new  poet  was  a  fresh  visitant  from  the  celestial  sphere. 
The  L.  E.  L.  to  whom  reference  is  made  is  Letitia 
Elizabeth  Landon,  a  young  Englishwoman,  whose 
strains  of  tender  melancholy  and  romantic  sentiment 
were  marked  by  a  degree  of  real  power,  which  under 
severer  training  might  have  given  her  a  permanent 
place  in  literature.  The  letter  from  which  the  extract 
is  made  was  written  to  Miss  Heath,  near  midnight, 
presumably  in  1823  :  — 

"  DEAR  ANXIE,  —  You  say  I  weep  easily.  I  was  early 
taught  to  sorrow,  to  shed  tears,  and  now,  when  sudden  joy 
lights  up  or  any  unexpected  sorrow  strikes  my  heart,  I  find 
it  difficult  to  repress  the  full  and  swelling  tide  of  feeling. 
Even  now,  though  alone  and  with  no  very  exciting  cause  of 
joy  or  grief,  I  am  paying  my  watery  tribute  to  the  genius  of 
L.  E.  L.  Oh,  Anne !  she  is  a  poetess  that  expresses  all  the 
genius  and  fire  of  Byron,  unalloyed  with  his  gross  faults ; 
all  the  beautiful  flow  of  words  which  fall  like  music  on  the 
air  from  the  pen  of  Moore,  without  his  little  less  than  half- 
concealed  consciousness  ;  all  the  simplicity  of  Wordsworth 
without  his  prosiness  and  stiffness  ;  finally,  in  the  words  of 
her  reviewer,  '  If  she  never  excels  what  she  already  has 
written,  we  can  confidently  give  her  the  assurance  of  what 
the  possessor  of  such  talents  must  earnestly  covet,  immor- 
tality.'' The  '  Improvisatrice  '  will  soon  be  published  in  this 


20  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

country  and  then,  Anne,  prepare  for  the  enjoyment  of  this 
rich  feast. 

"  I  worship  talents,  almost.  I  sinfully  dare  mourn  that  I 
possess  them  not.  ...  It  is  not  that  I  may  win  the  world's 
applause  that  I  would  possess  a  mind  above  the  common 
sphere,  but  that  I  might  revel  in  the  luxury  of  those  mental 
visions  that  must  hourly  entrance  a  spirit  that  partakes  less 
of  earth  than  heaven.  ...  I  shall  try  to  feel  and  to  act 
better,  but  I  cannot  cease  to  lament. 

"  Good-night,  THEA." 

No  one  can  read  a  letter  like  this,  crude  as  it  is 
in  expression,  a  letter  written  at  midnight,  her  only 
hour  of  leisure,  by  a  young  woman  who,  in  ill  health, 
was  bearing  so  exhausting  a  burden,  without  feeling 
the  fierce  pulsebeat  of  an  aspiring  nature,  which  read 
poetry  not  for  pastime,  but  for  dear  life ;  not  for  the 
diversion  of  an  idle  hour,  but  for  refuge  in  a  realm  of 
ideality,  and  for  solace  to  its  passionate  yearning  after 
a  wider,  richer  experience. 

Again  and  again,  in  this  correspondence  with  Miss 
Heath,  there  breaks  out  the  cry  of  loneliness  and 
heart-hunger.  The  strain  of  each  day's  work,  in  itself 
severe  enough,  was  made  all  the  more  exhausting  by 
the  additional  tasks  a  mind  incapable  of  rest  was 
forever  imposing  on  itself.  Rising  before  the  sun  and 
going  to  bed  after  midnight,  steadily  bent  on  supple- 
menting the  defects  of  an  imperfect  early  education, 
at  work  on  text-books  like  her  "  Science  of  Common 
Things  "  (which  ultimately  went  through  sixty  editions, 
and  the  fundamental  data  of  which  she  had  to  learn 
as  she  wrote  them  down),  inevitably  there  set  in  that 
physical  exhaustion  of  body  and  brain  out  of  which 
no  further  response  is  to  be  had  but  by  plying  whip 
and  spur.  There  was  no  joy  in  the  house,  no  refuge 


BEGINS  TEACHING  IN  BOSTON.  21 

in  a  merry,  loving  home  circle,  no  leisure  from  ever- 
pursuing  cares.  Thence  the  hungry  void  in  her  heart 
which  led  her  often  to  write  in  a  strain  like  this :  — 

"  Anne,  my  dear  friend,  if  ever  you  are  disposed  to  think 
your  lot  an  unhappy  one  or  your  heart  desolate,  think  of 
her  whose  pathway  is  yet  more  thorny,  and  whose  way  is 
cheered  by  no  close  connections.  .  .  .  You  have  an  almost 
angelic  mother,  Anne  ;  you  cannot  but  be  both  good  and 
happy  while  she  hovers  over  you,  ministering  to  your  wants, 
and  supplying  all  that  the  fondest  affection  can  provide, 
Your  sisters,  too,  they  comfort  you.  /  have  none." 

As  early  as  1824  it  was  becoming  doubtful  whether 
the  young  teacher  would  have  health  enough  to  permit 
of  her  carrying  through  the  scheme  on  which  she  had 
embarked  with  such  energy.  Symptoms  of  lung  con- 
gestion, with  tendency  to  hemorrhage,  were  becoming 
marked.  Her  voice,  remarkable  through  later  life  for 
purity,  sweetness,  and  depth,  was  growing  weak  and 
husky.  She  was  fast  contracting  a  stoop  of  the  shoul- 
ders, and  her  frequent  attitude,  as  she  stood  to  conduct 
her  classes,  was  that  of  supporting  herself  with  one 
hand  holding  on  to  the  desk,  and  the  other  pressed 
hard  to  her  side  as  though  to  repress  a  sharp  pain. 
"  Over  the  future  hangs  a  veil  which  mortal  eyes  may 
not  essay  to  penetrate,"  she  now  writes  her  friend 
Miss  Heath,  "  but  we  may  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  be 
of  good  courage." 

Of  good,  of  heroic,  courage  she  always  was.  It  was 
never  her  will  that  flinched,  but  only  the  body  that 
from  time  to  time  dropped  prone  to  the  ground.  In- 
deed, it  is  scarcely  without  a  half-pathetic  smile  that 
one  can  read  such  self-reproachful  goadings  of  an  al- 
ready overtaxed  mind  and  body  as  this :  — 


22  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"  There  is  in  our  nature  a  disposition  to  indulgence,  a  secret 
desire  to  escape  from  labor,  which,  unless  hourly  combated, 
will  overcome  and  destroy  the  best  faculties  of  our  minds, 
and  paralyze  our  most  useful  powers.  Protracted  ill  health 
is  often  suffered  to  become  the  ally  of  this  hidden  disposi- 
tion, and  there  is  hardly  anything  so  difficult  to  contend 
with  and  conquer.  I  have  often  entertained  a  dread  lest  I 
should  fall  a  victim  to  my  besieger,  and  that  fear  has  saved 
me  so  far." 

None  the  less  even  she  was  before  long  forced  to 
yield,  and  for  the  next  two  or  three  years  to  spend  her 
time  largely  in  efforts  to  establish  her  health.  The 
sharpest  pang  of  this  necessity  lay  in  the  separation  it 
involved  from  the  charge  of  her  younger  brothers,  of 
one  of  whom  she  writes  to  Miss  Heath :  — 

"  Oh,  Anne,,  if  that  child  is  but  good,  I  care  not  how  hum- 
ble his  pathway  through  life.  It  is  for  him  my  soul  is  filled 
with  bitterness  when  sickness  wastes  me  ;  it  is  because  of 
him  I  dread  to  die.  I  know  I  should  have  more  faith ;  '  the 
spirit  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is'  the  betrayer." 

Happily  for  the  future  of  Miss  Dix,  she  had  by  this 
time  won  the  respect  and  love  of  several  very  influen- 
tial people  in  Boston.  Chief  among  these  was  the 
celebrated  divine,  Dr.  William  Ellery  Channing.  who 
evidently  clearly  understood  alike  the  admirable  and 
the  dangerous  points  in  her  nature,  and  frankly  coun- 
seled her. 

"  I  look  forward  to  your  future  life  [he  on  one  occasion 
wrote]  not  altogether  without  solicitude,  but  with  a  prevail- 
ing hope.  Your  infirm  health  seems  to  darken  your  pros- 
pects of  usefulness.  But  I  believe  your  constitution  will  yet 
be  built  up,  if  you  will  give  it  a  fair  chance.  You  must 
learn  to  give  up  your  plans  of  usefulness,  as  much  as  those 
of  gratification,  to  the  will  of  God.  We  may  make  these 


BEGINS  TEACHING  IN  BOSTON.       23 

the  occasion  of  self-will,  vanity,  and  pride  as  much  as  any- 
thing else.  May  not  one  of  your  chief  dangers  lie  there  ? 
.  .  .  The  infirmity  which  I  warn  you  of,  though  one  of 
good  minds,  is  an  infirmity.  ...  It  is  said  that  our  faults 
and  virtues  are  sometimes  so  strangely  interwoven  that  we 
must  spare  the  first  for  the  sake  of  the  last.  If  I  thought  so 
in  your  case,  I  would  withhold  my  counsel,  for  your  virtues 
are  too  precious  to  be  put  to  hazard  for  such  faults  as  I 
might  detect." 

One  fortunate  outcome  of  this  relation  with  Dr. 
Channing  was  an  invitation  to  undertake  the  education 
of  his  children  for  six  months  of  the  spring  and  sum- 
mer of  1827.  This  happily  removed  her  from  the 
bleak  climate  of  Boston  to  the  softer  air  and  charming 
scenery  of  Narragansett  Bay,  where  in  Portsmouth, 
R.  L,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles  from  Newport,  his 
birthplace,  Dr.  Channing  had  a  country-seat.  Her 
duties  were  light,  she  could  be  much  in  the  open  air, 
and  at  last  her  passion  for  hero-worship  found  satis- 
faction in  close  intimacy  with  an  actual  human  being 
so  exalted  in  intellect  and  saintly  in  character  that 
the  more  nearly  she  came  in  contact  with  him  the 
deeper  grew  her  veneration. 

Already  no  mean  proficient  in  botany,  and  with  a 
lively  interest  in  all  departments  of  natural  history, 
the  flowers,  seaweeds,  shells,  and  general  marine  life 
of  the  beautiful  region  exercised  a  fascination  over 
her  that  drew  her  away  from  inward  conflict  and  gave 
a  healthier  objective  tone  to  her  mind.  When  the  en- 
gagement terminated,  in  October,  Dr.  Channing  wrote 
her :  — 

"  You  have  no  burden  of  gratitude  laid  upon  you,  for  we 
feel  that  you  gave  at  least  as  much  good  as  you  received. 
We  will  hear  no  more  of  thanks,  but  your  affection  for  us 


24  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

and  our  little  ones  we  will  treasure  up  among  our  precious 
blessings.  ...  I  wish  to  say  to  you  that  if  you  should  think 
another  summer's  residence  on  Rhode  Island  would  be 
beneficial  to  you,  Mrs.  Channing  and  myself  would  be  glad 
to  engage  your  services  for  our  children.  I  dare  not  urge 
the  arrangement,  for  I  have  an  interest  in  it." 

For  several  successive  winters,  now,  pulmonary 
weakness  compelled  Miss  Dix  to  seek  refuge  from  the 
severe  winter  climate  of  New  England  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  in  Alexandria,  Va.  She  kept  herself  busy 
with  reading  of  a  very  multifarious  kind,  —  poetry, 
science,  biography,  and  travel,  —  besides  eking  out  the 
scanty  means  she  had  laid  by  from  her  teaching  by 
writing  stories  and  compiling  floral  albums  and  books 
of  devotion.1  The  effect  of  illness  was  rarely  to  de- 
press her  spirits.  Indeed,  it  must  here  be  emphasized 

1  The  following  list  of  the  various  books  written  by  Miss  Dix, 
either  while  actually  at  work  teaching,  or  while  away  seeking  health, 
has  been  kindly  furnished  by  Miss  A.  I.  Appleton,  of  the  Boston 
Athenteum  :  — 

1 .  Conversations  on  Common  Things.     Boston,  Munroe  &   Francis, 
1824.     In  1869,  this  book  had  reached  its  sixtieth  edition. 

2.  Hymns  for  Children,   Selected  and  Altered.     Boston,  Munroe  & 
Francis,  1825.     Rearranged,  Boston,  1833. 

3.  Evening  Hours.     Boston,  Munroe  &  Francis,  1825. 

4.  Ten  Short  Stories  for  Children,  1827-28.     Afterwards  published 
under  the  title  American  Moral  Tales  for    Young  Persons.     Boston, 
Leonard  C.   Bowles  &   B.   H.   Greene,    1832.     Contents:    John  Wil- 
liams, or  The  Sailor  Boy;    Little  Agnes  and  Blind  Mary;    Robert 
Woodard,  or  The  Heedless  Boy  ;  James  Coleman,  or  The  Reward  of 
Perseverance ;  The  Dainty  Boy  ;  Alice  and  Ruth  ;  Marrion  Wilder, 
The    Passionate   Little    Girl;    Sequel   to   Marrion  Wilder;    George 
Mills ;  The  Storm. 

5.  Meditations  for  Private  Hours.     Boston,  1828.      A  number  of 
subsequent  editions. 

6.  The  Garland  of  Flora.     Boston,  S.  G.  Goodrich  &  Co.,  1829. 

7.  The  Pearl,  or  Affection's  Gift;  A  Christmas  and  New  Year's 
Present.     Philadelphia,  1829. 


BEGINS  TEACHING  IN  BOSTON.  25 

as  a  marked  characteristic  of  her  at  once  heroic  and 
devout  nature  that  suffering  not  only  rallied  to  the 
front  her  powers  of  resistance,  but  actually  induced  a 
state  of  high  spiritual  exaltation.  Throughout  her 
whole  future  career,  this  will  be  strikingly  apparent. 
Very  interesting  is  it,  then,  to  read,  in  the  two  following 
extracts  from  letters  written  while  away  in  the  South 
to  Miss  Heath,  her  own  clear  recognition  of  this  consti- 
tutional trait :  — 

"DEAR  ANNIE,  —  I  am  never  less  disposed  to  sadness 
than  when  ill  and  alone.  Sometimes  I  have  fancied  that  it 
was  the  nature  of  my  disease  to  create  a  rising,  elastic  state 
of  mind,  but  be  that  as  it  will  (I  speak  solemnly),  the  hour 
of  bodily  suffering  is  to  me  the  hour  of  spiritual  joy.  It  is 
then  that  most  I  feel  my  dependence  on  God  and  his  power 
to  sustain.  It  is  then  that  I  rejoice  to  feel  that,  though  the 
earthly  frame  decay,  the  soul  shall  never  die.  The  disci- 
pline which  has  brought  me  to  this  has  been  long  and 
varied :  it  has  led  through  a  valley  of  tears,  a  life  of  woe. 
...  It  is  happiness  to  feel  progression,  and  to  feel  that  the 
power  that  thus  aids  is  not  of  earth." 

Again,  as  presenting  a  vivid  picture  of  how  quickly 
any  vision  of  sublimity  or  beauty,  whether  in  the 
physical  or  the  moral  world,  would  lift  her  above  bod- 
ily suffering  into  a  state  of  transport  and  adoration, 
the  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  this  period  is 
highly  characteristic :  — 

"  Last  night,  dear  Annie,  I  could  not  sleep,  and  after 
several  restless  hours  rose  at  one  o'clock,  wrapped  myself 
warmly  in  my  flannel  gown,  and  was  in  search  of  my  medi- 
cine, when  the  remarkable  clearness  of  the  sky  drew  me  to 
my  window.  There  was  Orion  with  his  glittering  sword 
and  jeweled  belt,  Aldebaran,  the  fiery  eye  of  Taurus, 
Saturn  with  his  resplendent  train  of  attendants,  and  the 


26  LIFE    OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

sweet  Pleiades  ;  there,  too,  flamed  Canicula  and  Procyon, 
beneath  whose  rival  fires  the  beautiful  star  of  evening  had 
long  since  sunk  from  view ;  Leo  with  his  glorious  sickle 
followed  in  the  train,  and  thousands  on  thousands  of  starry- 
lamps  lent  their  brightness  to  light  up  the  vast  firmament 
that  canopied  the  silent  eartli,  —  silent,  for  sleep  had  exerted 
its  restoring  influence  upon  all  save  the  sick  and  sorrowing. 
I  turned  reluctantly  again  to  seek  my  weary  couch.  With 
feelings  of  gratitude  to  my  God  for  all  his  past  goodness 
and  humble  trust  in  his  future  care,  I  laid  my  head  on  my 
pillow,  and  though  I  could  not  sleep  could  meditate." 

A  more  striking  piece  of  unconscious  self -portraiture 
could  hardly  be  quoted  than  this.  The  image  of  that 
frail  young  woman  rising  on  a  cold  winter  night  from 
her  bed,  exhausted  with  coughing  and  the  sharp  pain 
in  her  side,  to  seek  her  medicine,  and  suddenly  finding 
relief  in  the  sublime  pageant  of  the  midnight  heavens, 
and  in  the  adoration  of  the  God  whose  glory  it  de- 
clared,—  this  image  indelibly  stamped  on  the  mind 
will  give  the  keynote  to  a  life  that  was  destined  to  be 
a  perpetual  rising  from  pain  and  weariness  to  the  be- 
holding of  a  vision  so  transcendent  in  promised  bless- 
ing for  humanity  as  to  inspire  her  with  fairly  super- 
natural strength.  But  not  yet  was  her  day  of  stern 
training  over.  Still  farther  must  she  learn  to  endure 
hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  Christ ;  still  farther  to 
school  an  impatient  and  indomitable  will  to  wait  on 
the  ordination  of  a  Higher  Power. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   ISLAND   OF   ST.    CROIX. 

IN  alternation  between  summers  spent  with  the 
family  of  Dr.  Channing  in  Portsmouth,  E.  L,  inter- 
mittent attempts  at  teaching,  as  in  the  then  famous 
Fowle  Monitorial  School,  and  winters  passed  in  more 
southern  latitudes,  the  years  went  by  till,  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1830,  Miss  Dix  was  invited  by  Dr.  Channing 
to  accompany  his  household,  as  instructress  of  his 
children,  to  the  tropical  island  of  St.  Croix,  in  which 
he  was  himself  to  seek  the  recuperation  of  his  greatly 
impaired  health.  The  party  sailed  in  the  schooner 
Rice  Plant  from  Boston,  November  20, 1830,  reaching 
their  destination  after  a  short  and  prosperous  voyage. 
St.  Croix,  one  of  the  West  India  Islands,  belonging 
to  Denmark,  enjoyed  in  those  days  such  repute  for 
salubrity  of  climate  as  to  be  much  sought  as  a  refuge 
by  delicate  and  consumptive  patients  from  the  United 
States.  Twenty-three  miles  long  by  six  in  width,  and 
crowned  by  the  eminence  of  Blue  Mountain  rising  to  a 
height  of  eleven  hundred  feet,  the  proportion  of  land 
to  the  surrounding  extent  of  the  ocean  made  residence 
on  it  almost  like  being  at  sea. 

A  visit  to  the  tropics  had  been  looked  forward  to  by 
Miss  Dix  with  intense  delight.  Now  she  would  see 
with  her  own  eyes  an  utterly  new  flora  and  fauna,  a 
literal  paradise  of  trailing  vines,  palms,  bananas, 
rare  birds,  shells,  and  marine  plants.  Indeed,  it  seems 


28  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

here  the  most  fitting  place  again  to  call  attention  to 
that  vivid  interest  in  all  the  branches  of  natural  his- 
tory, which  unquestionably  would  have  asserted  itself 
as  the  dominant  passion  of  her  mind,  had  it  not  been 
overmastered  by  the  still  stronger  passion  for  conse- 
crating herself  to  the  relief  of  human  suffering.  All 
through  life,  the  prospect  of  snatching  an  hour  from 
pressing  cares  for  the  criminal  and  the  insane,  to  de- 
vote to  studying  in  its  native  habitat  a  new  plant, 
new  seaweed,  or  new  shellfish,  or  for  observing  any- 
thing before  unseen  in  a  Bay  of  Fundy  tide,  or  a  re- 
markable geological  formation,  excited  in  her  an  en- 
thusiasm nothing  could  call  her  off  from  but  the  cry 
of  human  misery.  What  she  might  have  achieved, 
had  her  indomitable  energy  been  permanently  turned 
in  the  direction  of  natural  science,  it  is  impossible  to 
say.  Certain  it  is,  there  would  have  been  no  crater, 
however  deep  and  sulphurous,  into  which  her  courage 
would  have  shrunk  from  descending ;  no  marsh,  how- 
ever malarious,  that  would  have  hidden  from  her  the 
secret  of  its  most  secluded  moss  or  peat-flower. 

Arriving  now  in  the  actual  tropics,  and  with  all  her 
Northern  energy  on  the  alert  for  fresh  achievement, 
Miss  Dix  unexpectedly  found  herself  brought  face  to 
face  with  a  lesson  in  human  nature,  which  began  a 
modification  of  character  in  her  it  took  years  to  work 
out.  So  far  in  life  the  uncompromising  champion  of 
the  power  of  the  human  will  to  rise  superior  to  cir- 
cumstances of  every  kind,  great  was  her  dismay  and 
mortification  at  finding  herself  for  a  time  the  passive 
victim  of  a  purely  physical  environment.  Before  this 
date,  indeed,  stern  experience  had  forced  her  to  admit 
the  indisputable  fact  that  the  lungs  might  become  in- 
flamed, and  a  sharp,  burning  pain  transfix  the  side. 


THE  ISLAND   OF  ST.    CROIX.  29 

But  this  only  meant  that  one  could  no  longer  use  the 
voice  for  teaching.  One  could  still  study,  write,  mas- 
ter fresh  knowledge,  meditate,  and  pray.  But  now  she 
had  to  succumb  utterly  to  an  invisible  and  intangible 
foe  on  which  she  could  get  no  purchase,  —  to  simple, 
tropical  climate.  Pain  could  be  fought,  but  languor, 
an  utter  languor  of  desire  and  will,  which  blunted 
every  weapon  she  had  been  used  to  wield  and  made 
the  arm  nerveless  to  grasp  it,  —  here  was  something 
which  baffled  her  utterly. 

Indeed,  of  this  entirely  new  phase  of  experience 
Miss  Dix  speaks  feelingly  in  a  letter  to  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Samuel  Torrey,  to  whom  she  writes :  — 

"  Another  letter  from  you,  my  dear  friend,  impels  me  to 
take  up  my  pen.  I  think  that  this  incitement  would  not 
have  been  needed,  had  I  been  under  any  other  influence 
than  this  before-named  languor.  Our  darling  Mary  says, 
*  How  changed  Miss  Dix  is  !  She  used  always  to  be  busy, 
and  now  she  only  says,  Don't  talk  to  me  !  and  throws  herself 
on  the  bed  twenty  times  a  day.'  I  am  also  the  unfortunate 
subject  of  Dr.  Channing's  jests.  '  My  dear,'  he  says  to 
Mrs.  C.,  '  where  can  Miss  Dix  be  ?  But  I  need  not  ask,  — 
doubtless  very  busy,  as  usual.  Pray,  what  is  that  I  see  on 
yonder  sofa,  some  object  shrouded  in  white  ?  Oh  !  that  is 
Miss  Dix,  after  all.  Well,  well,  tell  it  not  in  Gath  !  How- 
are  the  mighty  fallen  !  '  All  this  I  bear,  but  I  am  rising 
above  it  in  more  than  one  sense.  I  am  really  getting  well, 
—  or  well  over  this  vexatious  no-disease  that  does  nothing, 
thinks  nothing,  is  nothing." 

It  is  of  interest  here  to  ask  what  was  the  impression 
made  on  a  mind  so  sympathetic  with  human  suffering, 
and  so  resolute  to  champion  its  cause,  by  this  her  first 
actual  contact  with  African  slavery.  Judging  from 
her  letters,  it  was  an  experience  not  at  all  uncommon 


30  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

with  persons  of  her  peculiar  type  of  character.  Ar. 
riving  in  the  tropics  from  the  bleak  North,  with  a 
mind  long  strained  to  the  highest  tension  in  the  pur- 
suit of  moral  ideals,  the  abysmal  gulf  that  opened 
up  between  the  careless,  dancing,  morally  irresponsi- 
ble Africans,  and  any  class  of  human  beings  she  had 
up  to  this  time  ever  fallen  in  with,  seems  to  have  diz- 
zied her  in  all  her  previous  standards  of  judgment. 
Like  Northern  people  in  general  on  their  first 
acquaintance  with  far  Southern  life,  she  too  was  com- 
pletely carried  away  with  the  fascination  of  a  sponta- 
neity, grace,  and  spirit  of  pure,  physical  light-hearted- 
ness,  of  which  the  North  affords  scarcely  a  trace.  The 
rigid  New  England  school-mistress  element  in  her  na- 
ture is  for  a  time  thawed  and  dissolved  away,  giving 
place  to  an  opposite  extreme.  Morality  is  still  to  her 
the  glorious  crown  of  humanity  in  Massachusetts,  but 
as  for  St.  Croix  and  among  the  negro  slaves,  is  it  to 
be  rationally  looked  for  there  ? 

"  You  have  no  idea  [she  writes  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Tor- 
rey]  how  interesting  the  negroes  are  here.  They  have 
not,  what  we  are  used  to  seeing  in  the  descendants  of  Afri- 
cans at  the  North,  coarse  features  and  clumsy  gait  and 
rough  voices.  They  are,  in  general,  handsome,  much  above 
the  generality  of  the  whites,  with  very  fine  figures,  and 
graceful  beyond  anything  I  have  ever  seen.  Their  voices 
in  conversation  are  musical  and  their  manners  respectful. 
Sometimes  their  accents,  especially  those  of  the  children,  are 
soft  and  plaintive,  touching  the  heart.  For  all  this  they  are 
in  reality  cheerful  and  happy.  .  .  .  They  are  the  most 
graceful  dancers  imaginable.  They  never  make  a  false 
step,  and  there  is  a  heartiness,  simplicity,  and  ease  with 
which  they  sustain  their  favorite  amusement  that  draws  the 
spectator  into  the  most  lively  enjoyment  of  the  exhilarating 
scene.  ...  I  cannot  regard  these  subjected  beings  as  re- 


THE  ISLAND  OF  ST.   CROIX.  31 

sponsible  for  any  immoralities.  Taking  into  consideration 
all  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are  placed,  I  would  by 
no  means  teach  them  the  distinctions  of  right  and  wrong. 
1  should  not  enlighten  them,  only  to  insure  a  tenfold  wretch- 
edness Jiere,  and  perhaps  not  make  any  progress  in  aiding 
them  to  be  happier  hereafter.  They  are  not  free  agents. 
Their  managers,  overseers,  and  too  often  their  owners  are 
very  corrupt,  and  the  slaves  are  within  and  under  their  con- 
trol." 

Later  on,  however,  it  is  clear  from  Miss  Dix's  let- 
ters that  this  peculiar  fascination  exerted  on  tense 
New  England  minds  by  their  first  contact  with  pure 
physical  gayety  of  temperament  is  fast  wearing  away, 
and  that  her  old  moral  standards  are  again  powerfully 
reasserting  themselves.  She  is  manifestly  triumph- 
ing, as  she  said  she  soon  should,  over  "  this  vexatious 
no-disease  that  does  nothing,  thinks  nothing,  is  noth- 
ing," and  now  writes  in  the  following  strain  to  Mrs. 
Torrey  :  — 

"  Your  view  of  slavery  corresponds  with  my  own.  *  Dis- 
guise thyself  as  thou  wilt,  still,  Slavery,  still  thou  art  a  bit- 
ter draught,'  and  human  nature  will  not  wear  thy  chains 
without  cursing  the  ground  for  the  enslaver's  sake.  'His 
gold  shall  perish  with  him,'  would  seem  to  be  the  mildest 
language  of  Justice  ;  but  whatever  be  the  form,  or  however 
remote  the  time,  sure  am  I  that  a  retribution  will  fall  on  the 
slave-merchant,  the  slave-holder,  and  their  children  to  the 
fourth  generation.  As  I  regard  the  hundreds  around  me 
for  life  subjected  to  bondage,  I  am  tempted  to  ask,  when 
they  commit  a  fault,  *  Do  these  men  sin,  or  their  masters  ?  ' 
.  .  .  These  beings,  I  repeat,  cannot  be  Christians,  they  can- 
not act  as  moral  beings,  they  cannot  live  as  souls  destined  to 
immortality.  Who,  then,  shall  pay  the  awful  price  of  their 
sours  redemption  ?  Who  but  those  who  have  hidden  from 
them  the  bread  of  life  and  sealed  up  from  them  the  foun- 
tains of  living  waters,  who  have  darkened  the  dark  mind 


82  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

and  obscured  the  clouded  powers  of  thought?  Oh  for 
a  Jeremiah  to  cry,  '  Woe !  woe ! '  ere  total  destruction 
cometh !  Oh  for  the  inspirations  of  an  Isaiah  to  pierce 
the  hardened  with  the  arrows  of  timely  repentance !  No 
blessing,  no  good,  can  follow  in  the  path  trodden  by  slavery. 
No  door  of  mercy  opens  for  him  whose  soul  is  stained  by 
unnumbered  sins  committed  by  others  through  his  agency." 

It  has  been  of  importance  to  dwell  on  this  personal 
experience  of  the  enervating  effect  wrought  by  trop- 
ical languor  on  the  most  exceptional  energy  of  North- 
ern will,  because  it  is  very  evident  that  the  winter 
spent  on  the  island  of  St.  Croix,  and  the  full  year 
or  more  of  languishing  illness  she  later  on  was  to 
go  through  with  in  Liverpool,  England,  wrought  in 
Miss  Dix  a  gradually  developing  modification  of  view. 
These  were  the  first  great  experiences  that  fixed  her 
attention  on  a  class  of  positive  phenomena  lying 
largely  outside  the  control  of  the  human  will,  through 
the  clear  recognition  alone  of  which  it  became  pos- 
sible to  her  to  allow  more  largely  for  physical  and 
moral  imperfections  and  infirmities.  Her  standard  of 
judgment  was  rendered  by  them  less  an  absolute  and 
immutable  Procrustes  bed,  on  which  all  alike  must  be 
stretched  and  cut  to  a  uniform  pattern. 

Toward  herself,  indeed,  and  the  demands  she  through 
life  made  on  her  own  flesh  and  blood,  she  remained 
inexorable.  But  she  came  finally  to  see  that  she 
"  differed  from  others/'  and  that  she  was  a  being 
apart,  with  a  law  of  her  own  to  obey.  Gradually, 
though  only  gradually,  the  disposition  lessened  in  her 
to  insist  on  her  own  almost  superhuman  standard  of 
self-sacrifice  as  the  rule,  or  even  possibility,  for 
others.  And  so  at  last,  when  she  had  sounded  the 
awful  depths  of  her  own  great  mission  of  mercy,  and 
paid  the  full  tribute  of  the  blood-money  exacted,  it 


THE  ISLAND  OF  ST.   CR01X.  33 

came  to  be  with  her  as  with  that  kindred  spirit  Eliza- 
beth Fry,  whose  daughters  have  recorded  in  the  biog- 
raphy they  wrote  of  her : — 

"  She  would  have  shrunk  from  urging  the  same  course  on 
others.  She  feared  her  daughters  and  other  young  women 
generally  undertaking  questionable  or  difficult  public  offices. 
She  laid  great  stress  on  the  outward  circumstances  of  life : 
how  and  where  providentially  placed ;  the  opportunities  af- 
forded ;  the  powers  given.  .  .  .  She  did  not  consider  this 
call  to  be  general,  or  to  apply  to  persons  under  an  adminis- 
tration different  from  her  own." 

How  complete,  however,  was,  in  Miss  Dix's  own 
case,  the  triumph  over  tropical  languor  there  is  ample 
evidence  in  the  journals  and  notebooks  she  brought 
back  with  her  to  New  England.  They  show  an  ex- 
haustive study  of  all  the  physical  features  of  the  isl- 
and, and  embrace  full  catalogues  of  its  native  and 
cultivated  plants,  trees,  and  crops,  of  its  marine  flora 
and  fauna.  So  valuable  were,  moreover,  the  collec- 
tions of  specimens  she  laboriously  made  that  presents 
of  portions  of  them  to  such  scientific  men  as  Professor 
Benjamin  Silliman,  Audubon,  and  others  brought  her 
the  most  cordial  letters  of  thanks  and  praise.  Besides, 
while  at  St.  Croix,  she  evidently  did  a  large  amount  of 
reading.  Very  characteristic  is  it,  as  one  turns  the 
pages  of  these  notebooks,  now  yellow  with  the  time- 
stain  of  sixty  years,  to  see  how  diligently  she  wrote  out 
full  extracts  from  the  saints  and  sages  of  all  periods 
and  all  lands,  whose  words  bore  on  the  right  conduct 
human  life.  These  extracts  are  from  Hindoo,  Per- 
sian, Greek,  and  Christian  sources.  Though  herself 
the  most  orthodox  of  the  earlier  type  of  Unitarianism, 
her  inner  life  was  of  too  genuine  a  strain  to  resist  the 
witness  of  the  spirit,  in  whatsoever  land  or  under 
whatsoever  dispensation  it  was  breathed  abroad. 


34  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

In  a  letter  to  the  writer  of  this  biography,  Mrs. 
Mary  C.  Eustis,  the  daughter  of  Dr.  Channing,  re- 
cords in  the  following  words  her  own  recollections  of 
Miss  Dix  at  the  time  of  the  winter  in  St.  Croix,  and 
of  the  summers  at  her  father's  country-seat  in  Ports- 
mouth, R.  I. :  — 

"N*  '  She  was  tall  and  dignified,  but  stooped  somewhat,  was 
very  shy  in  her  manners,  and  colored  extremely  when  ad- 
dressed. This  may  surprise  you  who  knew  her  only  in 
later  life,  when  she  was  completely  self-possessed  and  reli- 
ant. .  .  .  She  was  strict  and  inflexible  in  her  discipline, 
which  we  her  pupils  disliked  extremely  at  the  time,  but  for 
which  I  have  been  grateful  as  I  have  grown  older  and 
found  how  much  I  was  indebted  to  that  iron  will  from 
which  it  was  hopeless  to  appeal,  but  which  I  suppose  was 
not  unreasonable,  as  I  find  my  father  expressing  great  satis- 
faction with  her  tuition  of  her  pupils.  ...  I  think  she  was 
a  very  accomplished  teacher,  active  and  diligent  herself, 
very  fond  of  natural  history  and  botany.  She  enjoyed  long 
rambles,  always  calling  our  attention  to  what  was  of  inter- 
est in  the  world  around  us.  I  hear  that  some  of  her  pupils 
speak  of  her  as  irascible.  I  have  no  such  remembrance. 
Fixed  as  fate  we  considered  her. 

"  We  all  became  much  attached  to  her,  and  she  was  our 
dear  and  valued  friend,  and  most  welcome  guest  in  all  our 
homes.  She  was  a  very  religious  woman,  without  a  particle 
of  sectarianism  or  bigotry.  At  the  little  Union  Meeting- 
house which  adjoined  Oakland,  our  place  on  Rhode  Island, 
Miss  Dix -always  had  the  class  of  troublesome  men  and 
boys,  who  succumbed  to  her  charm  of  manner  and  firm  will. 
Later  on,  after  the  death  of  her  grandmother,  she  was  a 
constant  visitor  at  our  house.  She  delighted  to  drop  in 
unexpectedly,  and  then  suddenly  receiving  a  letter  from  a 
poor  soldier  at  Fort  Adams,  would  start  off  at  a  moment's 
notice  to  right  his  wrong  and  persuade  the  government  to 
improve  the  arrangements  for  the  comfort  of  the  men." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  MODEL   SCHOOL   AND   ITS   PENALTY. 

RETUKNING  home  from  St.  Croix  in  the  late  spring 
of  1831,  Miss  Dix,  in  the  ensuing  autumn,  entered 
seriously  on  the  work  of  establishing  the  kind  of 
model  boarding  and  day  school  for  girls  which  should 
satisfy  the  high-wrought  ideal  that  filled  her  mind. 
Once  again  she  found  herself  settled  in  the  old  Dix 
Mansion,  her  now  well-grown  brothers  with  her,  and 
health  sufficiently  improved  to  warrant,  she  felt,  any 
degree  of  prodigal  expenditure  of  precious  life-force. 

Flinging  herself  with  her  old  intensity  into  the 
work,  rising  before  the  sun  and  rarely  in  bed  till  after 
midnight,  no  long  time  passed  before  she  made  her 
mark,  and  secured  from  prominent  families  in  Boston 
and  from  distant  places  as  many  pupils  as  she  could 
take  in  charge.  Health  or  no  health,  there  were  two 
grand  objects  she  was  now  indomitably  set  on  effecting. 

First,  she  would  achieve  pecuniary  independence. 
To  the  full  she  appreciated  the  value  of  a  moderate 
competence  to  any  one  who  would  be  free  to  carry  out 
self-chosen  plans  in  life.  The  misery  and  humilia- 
tion entailed  by  impracticability  and  shiftlessness  had 
been  from  childhood  burned  into  her  soul.  Thus 
from  the  outset  she  showed  herself  a  superior  business 
manager.  Generous  to  the  last  extreme  in  giving 
away  money,  —  her  school  containing  always  a  num- 
ber of  non-paying  pupils,  and  a  charity  school  in  addi- 


36  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

tion  being  largely  maintained  by  her,  —  she  none  the 
less  held  tenaciously  to  the  idea  that  the  money  she 
gave  away  should  be  her  own  money.  To  the  end  of 
life  she  entertained  a  sovereign  contempt  for  people 
who  got  their  living  out  of  benevolent  enterprises, 
and  selfishly  foisted  themselves,  in  the  holy  name  of 
charity,  as  an  added  burden  on  the  community. 

Along,  however,  with  this  determination  to  secure 
personal  independence  there  went  the  resolve  to  sub- 
ordinate every  desire  for  leisure  and  exemption  from 
pain  to  working  for  what  she  deemed  the  highest  good 
of  her  pupils.  No  heart  of  the  day  shared  more  fully 
than  hers  the  enthusiastic  faith  of  that  great  awaken- 
ing in  Massachusetts,  which,  fostered  especially  by 
the  glowing  visions  of  the  future  for  humanity,  of  the 
preaching  of  Dr.  Channing,  was  prophesying  the  ad- 
vent of  a  new  day  in  education  and  reform.  "  The 
dignity  of  human  nature,"  its  power,  under  God,  to 
rise  to  heights  never  before  dreamed  of  but  in  the 
visions  of  saints,  —  this  had  been  Dr.  Channing's  in- 
spiring battle-cry.  In  all  this,  her  own  ardent  aspira- 
tions had  been  still  farther  stimulated  by  the  flaming 
eloquence  of  Dr.  Channing's  colleague,  Rev.  Ezra 
Stiles  Gannett,  a  man  equally  ready  with  herself  to 
trample  the  body  under  foot,  and  live  a  daily  sacrifice 
in  infirmity  and  pain  to  the  cause  he  fervidly  cher- 
ished. 

For  the  realization  of  these  prophetic  hopes,  the 
place  of  all  others  for  work  now  seemed  to  Miss  Dix 
the  school.  She  did  not  yet  know  herself  or  the  com- 
manding powers  that  were  slumbering  in  her.  Com- 
ing events  alone  were  to  reveal  these.  But  in  the 
school  could  be  gathered  together  the  children  un- 
spotted from  the  world,  and  in  the  susceptible  soil  of 


THE  MODEL  SCHOOL  AND  ITS  PENALTY.      37 

their  natures  could  be  sown  the  seed  of  the  coming 
glorious  harvest.  None  the  less  it  must  be  frankly 
admitted  that  she  could  never  fully  enter  into  the  ex- 
perience of  average  children,  —  their  exuberance  of 
purely  animal  life,  their  suffering  under  concentra- 
tion and  restraint,  their  utter  immaturity  of  intellect 
and  conscience.  To  themselves,  they  seemed  here  on 
earth  to  enjoy  the  fun  life  was  made  for ;  to  her,  to 
prepare  to  become  the  mothers,  teachers,  daughters  of 
charity  of  the  world.  Alas  !  she  had  never  been  an 
average  child  herself.  She  had  been  premature  child- 
mother,  premature  battler  with  the  stern  problem  of 
life.  And  so,  out  of  the  lack  of  this  essential  experi- 
ence was  to  grow  the  one  grave  drawback  to  the 
character  of  the  influence  she  exerted  in  the  school,  — 
great  and  salutary  as  was  that  influence,  and  as  it  is, 
even  to  this  day,  recognized  to  have  been  by  the  de- 
cided majority  of  her  pupils  who  are  still  living. 

"  The  arrangements  of  the  school,"  writes  a  former 
pupil  of  it,  "  were  very  primitive,  —  no  desks  for  the 
girls,  only  a  long  table  through  the  middle  of  the 
room,  at  which  we  sat  for  meals,  and  at  which  it  was 
very  inconvenient  to  write."  The  studies  —  as  was 
common  in  those  days  —  embraced  a  rather  limited 
range  of  subjects.  Spelling,  arithmetic,  and  composi- 
tion were  rigorously  and  accurately  taught,  as  well  as 
geography  and  history,  while  a  French  teacher  gave 
the  only  instruction  in  any  other  language  but  Eng- 
lish, unless  exception  be  made  in  favor  of  a  little  ele- 
mentary Latin.  Perhaps  far  more  than  in  most 
schools  of  the  period,  attention  was  paid  to  the  teach- 
ing of  physics  and  natural  history.  The  main  stress, 
however,  was  laid  on  the  formation  of  moral  and  re- 
ligious character. 


38  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

Here  lay  the  overpowering  consideration  with  the 
teacher.  No  mere  acquisition  of  knowledge  was  of 
any  value  in  her  eyes  in  comparison  with  a  longing  to 
dedicate  it  to  the  service  of  humanity.  In  this  re- 
spect, the  conduct  of  the  school  was  well-nigh  monas- 
tic. Unceasing  effort  was  paid  to  leading  the  children 
to  the  formation  of  habits  of  introspection.  The 
kingdom  of  good  and  of  evil  within,  the  probing  its 
depths  and  the  recognition  of  the  eternal  distinction 
between  the  two,  —  this  was  to  her  the  one  shape  of 
knowledge  that  made  the  turning  point  of  the  soul  in 
time  and  in  eternity.  And  so  on  the  mantelshelf  of 
the  study  room  there  lay  always  a  certain  shell,  a 
kind  of  ear  of  God,  into  which,  daily  if  possible,  let- 
ters were  to  be  dropped,  recording  the  results  of  care- 
ful self-examination,  —  letters  to  which  Miss  Dix 
would  sit  up  till  after  midnight  writing  answers. 
Moreover,  to  this  was  later  on  added  a  Saturday  even- 
ing provision  for  private  interviews  of  the  most  sol- 
emn and  searching  nature  between  pupils  and  teacher, 
a  kind  of  Protestant  version  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
system  of  the  confessional. 

That  too  great  strain  was  thus  put  on  the  sensibili- 
ties and  conscience  of  the  more  earnest  children  by 
this  close  spiritual  touch  with  so  morally  exacting  a 
nature,  there  can  be  little  question.  And  yet  in  reply 
to  minute  inquiries  from  the  writer  of  this  biography, 
the  majority  of  the  still  living  pupils  insist  that,  while 
overstimulated  at  the  time,  they  were  none  the  less 
spiritually  revolutionized  by  these  seasons  of  close 
personal  contact,  and  that  to  her  they  owe  the  best 
they  have  ever  done  in  life.  Others,  however,  seem 
to  retain  none  but  painful  and  even  bitter  memories 
of  their  early  relation  with  one  the  stress  of  whose 


THE  MODEL  SCHOOL  AND  ITS  PENALTY.       39 

immense  demand  was  farther  accentuated  by  the  inev- 
itable bodily  penalties  of  exhaustion,  sleeplessness,  and 
pain  entailed  on  her  by  overstrain. 

Among  the  miscellaneous  papers  left  behind  after 
the  death  of  Miss  Dix,  there  are  large  bundles  of 
child-letters  of  this  period,  which  throw  a  varied  — 
sometimes  amusing  and  sometimes  pathetic  —  light 
on  the  working  of  this  system  of  education,  the  shell 
post-office  department  of  it  especially.  These  letters 
are  but  straws  indeed.  But  straws  show  how  the 
wind  blows  or  the  current  sets,  and  so  have  a  value 
greater  than  their  own.  Here,  then,  is  one  of  them, 
from  a  little  girl,  highly  pleased,  evidently,  at  the  pros- 
pect of  spiritual  treasures  in  store  for  her.  The  Italics 
so  freely  used  in  these  letters  are  retained  as  too 
indicative  of  emphatic  states  of  mind  to  be  spared. 

"  Please  write  me  a  note,  dear  teacher.  I  send  you  the 
paper  in  hopes  that  you  will :  do,  please !  The  casket  is 
ready,  please  fill  it  with  jewels. 

"  Your  child,  MOLLY." 

Next  comes  a  letter  from  a  youthful  aspirant  man- 
ifestly bent  on  putting  bark  and  iron  into  a  flagging 
will:  — 

"  You  know,  dear  Miss  Dix,  that  I  told  you  just  now  that 
I  could  not  do  my  composition,  and  is  n't  it  singular  I  just 
read  in  Martha's  letter  BorridilFs  quotation  from  Mr.  Gan- 
nett's  sermon,  '  An  iron  will  can  accomplish  everything.' 
Dear  Miss  Dix,  I  will  have  this  '  iron  will,'  and  I  will  do 
and  be  all  you  expect  from  your  child." 

A  third  example  summons  vividly  before  the  mind 
a  little  girl  so  actually  seething  with  ambition  to  suc- 
ceed that  the  power  of  language  fails,  and  has  to  be 
eked  out  with  a  bristling  abatis  of  exclamation  points. 


40  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"  AUNTY,  SWEET,  VERY  DEAR,  SWEET  AUNTY,  —  You 
asked  me  just  now  who  I  was  Writing  to.  I  did  not  AnsT 
you  on  purpose.  Aunty  !  Aunty  ! !  do  you  think  I  shall ! 
shall !  get  my  Bible  ! !  !  I  waitt  to  be  a  good  girl  so  !  ! ! 
Don't  you  want  me  to  !  I  know  you  do,  do,  do  !  Aunty  !  !  ! 
Now,  Aunty,  I  want  to  be  good  very  much,  and  i  '1  tell  you 
what,  let 's  you  and  I  never  speak  together,  but  write  little 
notes  all  the  time.  Tomorrow  morning  I  want  to  find  a 
little  note  on  my  pillow,  if  you  !  are  not  busy.  Goodbye, 
dear  Aunty." 

Surely,  this  last  letter  gives  evidence  of  a  child- 
nature  much  more  enthusiastically  stimulated  than 
overawed  by  the  shell  post-office  system.  The  two 
next,  however,  are  characteristic  specimens  of  the  more 
pathetic  ones,  of  which  there  were  many  :  — 


"  You  wished  me  to  he  very  frank  with  you,  and  tell  you 
my  feelings.  I  feel  the  need  of  some  one  to  whom  I  can 
pour  forth  my  feelings,  they  have  been  pent  up  so  long. 
You  may,  perhaps,  laugh  when  I  tell  you  I  have  a  disease, 
not  of  body  but  of  mind.  This  is  unhappiness.  Can  you 
tell  me  of  anything  to  cure  it  ?  If  you  can,  I  shall  indeed 
he  very  glad.  I  am  in  constant  fear  of  my  lessons,  I  am 
so  afraid  I  shall  miss  them.  And  I  think  that  if  I  do,  I 
shall  lose  my  place  in  the  school,  and  you  will  be  displeased 
with  me." 

II. 

"  I  thought  I  was  doing  very  well  until  I  read  your  letter, 
but  when  you  said  that  you  were  '  rousing  to  greater  en- 
ergy,' all  my  self-satisfaction  vanished.  For  if  you  are  not 
satisfied  in  some  measure  with  yourself,  and  are  going  to  do 
more  than  you  have  done,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do. 
You  do  not  go  to  rest  until  midnight,  and  then  you  rise 
very  early." 


THE  MODEL  SCHOOL  AND  ITS  PENALTY.   41 

These  juvenile  effusions  sufficiently  indicate  the 
varied  nature  of  the  effect  produced  by  Miss  Dix's 
personality  and  methods  on  children  of  different  tem- 
peraments. To  them,  may  be  added  an  extract  from 
a  letter  written  nearly  sixty  years  later :  — 

"  I  was  in  my  sixteenth  year,  1833  [writes  to  Miss  Dix's 
biographer  Mrs.  Margaret  J.  W.  Merrill,  of  Portland, 
Me.],  when  my  father  placed  me  at  her  school.  She  fasci- 
nated me  from  the  first,  as  she  had  done  many  of  my  class 
before  me.  Next  to  my  mother,  I  thought  her  the  most 
beautiful  woman  I  had  ever  seen.  She  was  in  the  prime  of 
her  years,  tall  and  of  dignified  carriage,  head  finely  shaped 
and  set,  with  an  abundance  of  soft,  wavy,  brown  hair." 

For  a  period  of  five  years  the  school  continued  in 
full  tide  of  success,  the  unflinching  will  of  Miss  Dix 
dragging  her  frail  body  through  the  weariness  and 
suffering  involved.  At  last,  however,  in  the  spring 
of  1836,  she  broke  down  utterly.  Haemorrhages  re- 
curred, the  old  pain  in  the  side  seemed  fixed,  as  though 
a  splintered  lance  were  there,  and  her  exhausted 
nerves  would  respond  no  farther. 

She  had  achieved  her  cherished  ends,  though  at  a 
fearful  cost.  Her  labors  had  secured  for  her  the  in- 
dependence of  a  modest  competence  ;  she  had  made  a 
home  for,  educated,  and  embarked  in  the  world  her 
younger  brothers ; l  she  had  won  a  position  of  dignity 
and  respect  as  a  teacher,  and  had  set  a  stamp  never 
to  be  effaced  on  a  large  number  of  young  minds. 
Only  it  looked  as  though  she  had  been  self-slain  in 
the  process. 

1  1.  Charles  W.  Graduated  at  the  Boston  Latin  School,  1832  ;  died 
on  the  western  coast  of  Africa  in  1843,  on  board  the  ship  he  com- 
manded. 

2.  Joseph.     Became  a  prosperous  merchant  in  Boston. 


42  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

She  herself,  however,  looked  back  with  no  relentings 
on  the  physical  and  moral  excesses  of  her  past.  'The 
stake  for  which  she  had  played  seemed  to  her  emi- 
nently an  honorable  one,  and  to  have  been  necessi- 
tated by  the  stern  conditions  thrust  on  her  by  her  lot 
in  life.  A  spirit  of  martyr  exaltation  sustained  her 
in  the  consciousness  that  she  had  never  flinched  till 
she  fell  helpless  to  the  ground. 

Summing  up,  then,  the  impression  left  by  a  careful 
study  of  the  life  of  Dorothea  L.  Dix  to  the  age  of  thirty- 
three,  it  seems  inevitable  to  say  that  it  was  at  once  a 
life  devout  and  heroic  in  purpose,  and  a  life  marred 
by  willful  overstrain.  A  hectic  fever  had  long  been 
running  in  her  blood,  which  raised  to  a  perilous  in- 
tensity the  self-sacrificing  impulses  and  the  moral  and 
religious  ardor  of  her  temperament.  She  had  as  yet 
learned  no  law  of  limit.  Dr.  Channing  had  put  his 
finger  on  the  very  spot  when  he  wrote  her,  "  The  in- 
firmity of  which  I  warn  you,  though  one  of  good 
minds,  is  an  infirmity."  Later  she  was  to  learn  a 
very  different  lesson.  But  it  was  a  lesson  that  always 
came  hard  to  her  personally ;  tenderly  and  pitifully, 
as  she  was  brought  to  recognize  its  import  in  the  case 
of  others. 

Still,  even  in  the  midst  of  these  needful  strictures, 
let  it  in  simple  justice  be  borne  in  mind  that  we  are 
here  dealing  with  a  nature  of  extraordinary  capacity, 
force,  and  fire,  thus  far  set  to  tasks  that  gave  no  scope 
to  its  splendid  energies.  The  mental  and  moral  pow- 
ers which,  after  once  they  had  found  their  adequate 
field  of  action,  were  to  sweep  irresistibly  before  her 
the  legislatures  of  more  than  twenty  great  States 
of  the  Union,  which  were  again  and  again  to  carry 
by  storm  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of 


THE  MODEL  SCHOOL  AND  ITS  PENALTY.   43 

the  Federal  Congress  in  Washington,  and  which,  in 
Europe,  were  to  win  a  like  triumph  in  the  British 
Parliament,  and  to  revolutionize  the  lunacy  legislation 
of  Scotland,  —  mental  and  moral  powers  of  such  an 
order  had  so  far  been  set  only  to  the  petty  task  of 
teaching,  disciplining,  and  stimulating  twenty  or  thirty 
average  children.  It  was  like  seeking  to  dwarf  into 
the  hull  of  a  little  launch  a  marine  engine  powerful 
enough  to  drive  an  ocean  steamship,  in  the  teeth  of 
the  roughest  gales,  across  the  Atlantic. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN   LIVERPOOL,    ENGLAND. 

So  complete  was  the  state  of  prostration  in  which 
Miss  Dix  was  left  by  the  collapse  of  her  powers  in  the 
spring  of  1836  that  her  physicians  insisted  on  the 
abandonment  of  every  thought,  present  or  prospective, 
of  farther  schoo!4ieeping.  It  had  become  a  question 
of  life  or  death.  The  immediate  necessity  was  entire 
change  of  scene  and  climate.  To  this  end  a  sea 
voyage  to  England  was  prescribed,  where  she  should 
spend  the  summer,  and  in  the  autumn  seek  the  milder 
climate  of  the  south  of  France  or  of  Italy.  Provided, 
accordingly,  with  letters  of  introduction  from  Dr. 
William  E.  Channing  and  other  influential  persons, 
she  set  sail  from  New  York  for  Liverpool,  April  22, 
in  company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  Schroder  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ferrer,  friends  who  watched  over  her 
on  the  voyage  with  all  care  and  tenderness.  It  was 
her  intention,  on  landing,  to  spend  several  months  in 
England,  and,  later  on,  to  rejoin  the  Ferrers  some- 
where on  the  Continent. 

Once  again  was  all  choice  of  plans  taken  out  of  her 
hands.  After  her  arrival  in  Liverpool,  it  became 
clear  that  she  was  in  too  suffering  a  condition  for 
either  travel  or  sight-seeing,  and  forlorn  enough  would 
now  have  been  her  situation  but  for  the  providential 
kindness  of  new-made  English  friends.  Fortunately, 
among  the  letters  of  introduction  from  Dr.  Channing 


IN  LIVERPOOL,    ENGLAND.  45 

was  one  to  the  family  of  Mr.  William  Rathbone,  of 
Liverpool,  a  merchant  of  wealth  and  high  standing, 
a  prominent  Unitarian,  and  identified  with  every  good 
cause  of  benevolence  and  reform.  Calling  upon  the 
stranger  invalid  at  the  hotel  where  she  lay  ill,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Rathbone  at  once  insisted  on  her  removal 
to  their  own  residence,  Greenbank,  some  three  miles 
outside  the  city,  and  to  this  charming  place  and  to  the 
hearts  of  the  family  was  she  now  taken. 

It  was,  certainly,  with  no  thought  of  remaining 
there  longer  than  a  few  weeks  that  Miss  Dix  became 
an  inmate  of  the  Rathbone  household.  In  reality, 
with  short  intervals  of  change,  it  was  to  be  for  full 
eighteen  months.  Frequent  hemorrhages  set  in,  and 
so  great  was  the  exhaustion  attendant  upon  them  that 
much  of  her  time  had  to  be  spent  in  bed  or  on  her 
lounge.  And  yet,  to  the  end  of  her  days,  this  period 
of  eighteen  months  stood  out  in  her  memory  as  the 
jubilee  year  of  her  life,  the  sunniest,  the  most  restful, 
and  the  tenderest  to  her  affections  of  her  whole  earthly 
experience. 

To  the  strenuous  invalid,  nursed  in  the  school  of 
stern  self-abnegation,  there  was  nothing  in  the  Scrip- 
"  ture  maxim,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re- 
ceive," which  she  did  not  thoroughly  indorse  and 
gladly  practice.  By  nature,  however,  it  came  very 
hard  to  her  —  as  always  in  the  instance  of  overpower- 
ingly  active  and  self -helpful  characters  —  to  reverse 
this  maxim,  and  recognize  that  the  day  surely  comes 
to  every  poor  worn  and  weary  mortal  when  it  should 
with  equal  devoutness  be  acknowledged  how  much 
more  blessed  it  is  to  receive  than  to  give.  But  during 
the  whole  year  of  1836-37  Miss  Dix,  as  her  letters  show, 
evidently  lived  on  the  mountain-top  of  this  reversed 


46  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

beatitude.  It  was  the  one  only  long  holiday  she  ever 
knew  in  life.  She  threw  off  care  and  ceased  to  plan, 
she  lovingly  resigned  herself  and  her  shrouded  future 
into  the  hands  of  God,  while  her  heart  overflowed  with 
gratitude  for  the  love  with  which  she  found  herself  cher- 
ished by  the  whole  devoted  household.  The  "  Storm 
and  Stress  Period"  of  her  life  seemed  over,  and, 
spite  of  illness,  perhaps  even  more  on  its  very  account, 
the  ardent  and  romantic  fervor  of  affection,  so  deep- 
seated  underneath  her  self-controlled  exterior,  together 
with  her  native  delight  in  refinement,  culture,  and 
social  charm,  now  found  free  vent.  It  is,  accordingly, 
in  the  following  happy  state  of  mind  that  we  find  her 
writing,  October  1,  1836,  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Samuel 
Torrey  of  Boston  :  — 

''  You  know  I  am  ill.  You  must  imagine  me  surrounded 
by  every  comfort,  sustained  by  every  tenderness  that  can 
cheer,  blest  in  the  continual  kindness  of  the  family  in  which 
Providence  has  placed  me,  —  I,  with  no  claims  but  those  of 
our  common  nature.  Here  I  am  contracting  continually 
a  debt  of  gratitude  which  time  will  never  see  canceled. 
There  is  a  treasury  from  which  it  will  be  repaid,  but  I  do 
not  dispense  its  stores.  I  write  from  my  bed,  leaning  on 
pillows  in  a  very  Oriental  luxury  of  position,  —  one  which 
I  think  will  soon  fall  into  a  fixed  habit." 

Not,  however,  without  the  persistent  application  of 
strong  counter-irritants  on  the  part  of  her  Puritan 
grandmother  in  Boston  was  Miss  Dix  allowed  to  sur- 
render herself  to  this  blissful  state  of  Nirvana.  The 
bare  elements  of  the  situation  shocked  every  sense  of 
propriety  in  the  rigid  old  lady,  who  had  herself  been 
brought  up  in  the  inflexible  early  New  England  creed 
that  the  one  and  only  befitting  posture  for  a  triumph- 
ant Christian  consumptive  to  die  in  was  sitting  bolt 


IN  LIVERPOOL,  ENGLAND.  47 

upright  in  a  straight-backed  chair,  maintaining  so 
long  as  consciousness  survived  a  clear  two  inches  of 
space  between  the  person  and  any  terrestrial  proffer 
of  support.  To  her,  then,  it  seemed  simply  incredi- 
ble, an  outright  moral  fall,  that  a  granddaughter  of 
her  own  should  actually  consent  to  stay  on  month 
after  month  in  a  strange  household,  where  she  could 
render  no  kind  of  equivalent  in  service  for  the  trouble 
and  expense  to  which  she  must  be  subjecting  every- 
body. Little  could  the  primitive  old  lady  take  it 
in,  that  the  very  reason  why  the  grateful  invalid  at 
Greenbank  was  so  luxuriating  in  her  life  there,  grew 
out  of  the  fact  that  now  for  the  first  time  in  her  ex- 
perience her  nature  was  blossoming  out  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  free,  spontaneous  love. 

Only  natural,  then,  is  it  to  find  her  writing  back  to 
her  grandmother  in  Boston  in  a  strain  that  shows  how 
deeply  her  feelings  had  been  hurt. 

"  I  have  felt  the  obligation  to  my  friends  in  England  so 
exclusively  my  own  that  it  was  not  less  surprising  than  pain- 
ful to  know  you  indulged  so  much  solicitude  on  that  point. 
.  .  .  There  is  a  danger,  perhaps,  of  my  getting  a  little 
spoiled  by  so  much  caressing  and  petting,  but  I  must  try  to  do 
without  it  if  I  get  better.  So  completely  am  I  adopted  into 
this  circle  of  loving  spirits  that  I  sometimes  forget  I  really 
am  not  to  consider  the  bonds  transient  in  their  bindino-." 

O 

Likewise  to  her  Boston  friend,  Mrs.  Samuel  Tor- 
rey,  she  writes  in  a  similar  strain :  — 

"  You  know  all  my  habits  through  life  have  been  singu- 
larly removed  from  any  condition  of  reliance  on  others, 
and  the  feeling,  right  or  wrong,  that  aloneness  is  my  proper 
position  has  prevailed  since  my  early  childhood,  no  doubt 
nourished  and  strengthened  by  many  and  quick-following 
bereavements." 


48  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

At  the  time  of  Miss  Dix's  first  visit  to  England, 
communication  between  Europe  and  America  was  a 
very  different  thing  from  what  it  now  is.  The  day  of 
steamships  lay  still  in  the  future,  and  not  yet  was  the 
Atlantic  turned  into  a  simple  ferry,  across  which 
boats  ply  daily  at  stated  hours  of  departure  and  arri- 
val. Sometimes  eighteen  days  sufficed  to  bring  let- 
ters, while  at  others  two  full  months  must  pass  with- 
out the  relief  of  any  intelligence  from  home.  Miss 
Dix's  experience  was  destined  to  be  the  common  one 
of  those  abroad.  Before  very  long,  news  of  the  in- 
evitable changes  wrought  by  death  began  to  arrive. 
Thus,  September  28,  1836,  Mrs.  H.  S.  Hayward,  of 
Boston,  writes  to  inform  the  invalid  of  the  sudden 
death  of  her  mother,  in  Fitzwilliam,  N.  H. :  — 

"  The  remembrance  of  duties  so  faithfully  performed,  and 
the  consciousness  that  you  could  have  done  nothing  more 
had  you  been  at  home,  will  be  a  comfort  to  you.  Your 
mother's  departure  was  so  unexpected  that  even  those  in  the 
room  were  totally  unprepared ;  no  sickness  nor  suffering, 
but  a  sudden  summons  to  go  to  her  rest  after  a  life  of  suf- 
fering from  a  lingering  disease." 

The  intelligence  of  her  mother's  death  was  the  open- 
ing afresh  of  an  old  wound  in  the  heart  of  Miss  Dix, 
awakening  once  more  the  sense  of  passionate  grief  she 
cherished  throughout  life  at  never  having  known  in 
childhood  the  blessedness  of  a  happy  and  loving 
home,  —  a  grief  rendered  all  the  intenser  now  through 
daily  communion  with  scenes  of  domestic  joy.  For 
long  years,  one  additional  reason  for  the  excessive  over- 
strain she  had  subjected  herself  to  had  grown  out  of 
the  necessity  of  contributing  to  the  maintenance  of 
her  mother. 


/AT  LIVERPOOL,  ENGLAND.  49 

He  would  have  been  a  bold  prophet  who  should  in 
those  days  have  bade  the  suffering  invalid  look  for- 
ward to  well  nigh  fifty  years  of  such  extraordinary 
achievement  as  to  amaze  all  who  came  in  contact  with 
her.  As  late  as  January  25,  1837,  nearly  nine 
months  after  her  arrival  in  England,  she  writes  her 
friend  Miss  Heath :  — 

"  I  have  been  very  ill  from  the  middle  of  November  till 
the  past  week,  but  have  just  now  less  pain  in  the  side,  dimin- 
ished cough,  and,  on  the  whole,  an  accession  of  strength. 
This  week,  for  the  first  time  since  September,  the  physician 
gave  me  permission  to  walk  about  the  room  several  times 
daily.  It  is  ten  days  since  the  last  spitting  of  blood,  and 
altogether  I  am  quite  comfortable  ;  at  least,  I  may  say, 
happy  and  grateful  for  the  manifold  blessings  of  my  condi- 
tion." 

Later  on,  however,  in  Miss  Dix's  stay  in  England, 
the  improvement  of  her  health  grew  steadily  more 
marked,  and  during  the  last  part  of  her  sojourn  at 
Greenbank,  as  well  as  on  the  occasion  of  visits  to 
other  friends,  she  was  able  to  enjoy  a  good  deal  of 
social  intercourse  with  people  of  intellectual  and 
moral  superiority.  Of  the  privilege  of  this  she  writes 
enthusiastically  to  Miss  Heath  :  — 

"  Of  my  English  friends,  I  should  find  language  too  poor 
to  speak  the  just  praise,  and  the  excellence  which  shines  in 
their  characters  and  lives.  Your  remark  that  I  probably 
enjoy  more  now  in  social  intercourse  than  I  have  ever  before 
done  is  quite  true.  Certainly,  if  I  do  not  improve,  it  will 
be  through  willful  self-neglect." 

Before  closing  the  narrative  of  this  especial  episode 
in  the  life  of  Miss  Dix,  it  seems  needful  to  add  that 
an  untrue  impression  would  be  left  on  the  mind  un- 
less emphatic  attention  were  once  again  called  to  the 


50  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

sharpness  of  the  pang  it  had  cost  her  to  renounce  her 
chosen  career  in  Boston.  The  thought  that  any  should 
suppose  she  had  weakly  surrendered  when  the  fiery 
test  came  to  her  was  nothing  short  of  torture.  Ac- 
cordingly, when,  as  months  on  months  of  rest  went  by 
without  recuperation,  her  dearest  home  friends  wrote 
to  her  expressing  wonder  that  she  was  not  already 
well,  their  words  seemed  to  her  little  short  of  a  moral 
insult. 

"  I  wish  [she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Samuel  Torrey]  my  home 
friends  expressed  and  felt  less  surprise  at  my  not  being  re- 
stored by  a  mere  voyage.  I  thought  they  knew  me  well 
enough  to  count  more  upon  the  resolution  I  could  exercise 
in  keeping  up  when  very  ill  than  to  have  been  so  deceived 
in  supposing  I  would  have  laid  down  all  my  absorbing  and 
interesting  duties  so  quietly,  if  the  conviction  had  not  been 
too  clear  to  admit  a  doubt  that  no  effort  could  longer  be 
sustained.  I  feel  it  was  right  to  go  on  as  long  as  I  did,  and 
right  to  pause  only  where  and  when  I  rested." 

It  is  hard,  under  the  actual  circumstances  of  the 
case,  to  read  this  characteristic  letter  without  recalling 
Browning's  poem  of  the  heroic  boy  who,  wounded  to 
death,  still  clung  to  his  horse's  mane  till  he  had  dashed 
up  to  Napoleon  with  the  news  that  Ratisbon  had  been 
stormed :  — 

"  So  tight  he  kept  his  lips  compressed, 

Scarce  any  blood  came  through. 
You  looked  twice  ere  you  saw  his  breast 
Was  all  but  shot  in  two. 

"  '  You're  wounded  !  '     '  Nay,'  his  soldier's  pride 

Touched  to  the  quick,  he  said : 
'  I'm  killed,  Sire  !  '     And,  his  chief  beside, 

Smiling  the  boy  fell  dead." 

Before  the  return  to  America,  the  intelligence  of 
still  another  death  was  to  reach  Miss  Dix.  It  was 


IN  LIVERPOOL,  ENGLAND.  51 

that  of  her  grandmother,  at  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety-one.  This  meant,  of  course,  the  breaking-up  of 
the  only  place  she  could  look  upon  as  home.  "  I  feel 
the  event,"  she  wrote  in  reply,  "  as  having  divided  the 
only  link,  save  the  yet  closer  one  of  fraternal  bonds, 
which  allies  me  to  kindred.'' 

Miss  Dix  returned  home  some  time  in  the  autumn 
of  1837,  after  an  absence  of  over  eighteen  months. 
While  her  health  had  greatly  improved,  it  still  had 
not  sufficiently  to  admit  of  her  spending  the  winter  in 
the  severe  climate  of  New  England.  Happily,  through 
the  will  of  her  grandmother,  a  bequest  had  now  come 
to  her,  enough,  with  the  earnings  of  her  days  of  teach- 
ing, to  provide  a  competency  for  the  moderate  wants 
of  a  single  woman.  She  was  thus  made  mistress  of 
her  own  time,  and  could  for  the  rest  of  her  days  have 
consulted  simply  the  exigencies  of  health  in  the  choice 
of  a  place  of  residence,  and  have  felt  free  to  follow  the 
strong  bent  of  her  social  and  intellectual  tastes. 

The  first  necessity  now,  however,  was  to  find  a 
milder  climate  for  the  coining  winter.  This  she  sought 
partly  in  Washington,  D.  C.,  and  partly  at  Oakland, 
near  Alexandria,  Virginia.  But  the  winter  proved  an 
unhappy  one  to  her.  Her  mind  was  in  a  restless  state. 
The  same  ill  health  that  had  forced  her  to  give  up  the 
school  in  which  the  chief  interest  of  her  life  had  cen- 
tered now  forbade  her  even  thinking  of  resuming  it. 
She  had  parted  her  moorings,  and  was  adrift  on  the 
world.  Nor  was  this  all.  In  England  she  had  tasted 
the  sweets  of  a  new  and  fascinating  experience.  She 
had  basked  in  a  sunny  atmosphere  of  sympathy  and 
love,  and  had  shared  a  life  far  fuller  of  charm  and  in- 
tellectual stimulus  than  any  to  which  she  had  previ- 
ously been  accustomed.  New  England,  on  her  return, 


52  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L,  DIX. 

seemed  to  her  raw,  provincial,  hard,  and  ugly,  as,  in- 
deed, in  those  earlier  days  it  was.  There  seemed  no 
place  for  any  one  who  was  not  fitted  into  some  regular 
groove  of  work.  Work  was  the  one  and  only  refuge, 
and  what  work  was  there  now  for  her  ?  All  this  in- 
ward sense  of  restlessness  and  pain  found  poignant 
expression  in  her  letters  at  this  period. 

"  I  was  not  conscious  [she  writes  from  Washington,  Feb- 
ruary 24,  1838,  to  her  friend  Miss  Heath]  that  so  great  a 
trial  was  to  meet  my  return  from  England,  till  the  whole 
force  of  the  contrast  was  laid  before  me.  Then,  I  confess, 
it  made  an  impression  which  will  be  ineffaceable.  .  .  .  Per- 
haps it  is  in  myself  the  fault  chiefly  lies.  I  may  be  too 
sensitive  ;  I  may  hunger  and  thirst  too  eagerly  for  that  cor- 
dial, real  regard  which  exists  not  in  mere  outward  forms  or 
uttered  sounds ;  I  may  be  too  craving  of  that  rich  gift,  the 
power  of  sharing  other  minds.  I  have  drunk  deeply,  long, 
and  oh  !  how  blissfully,  at  this  fountain  in  a  foreign  clime. 
Hearts  met  hearts,  minds  joined  with  minds ;  and  what  were 
the  secondary  trials  of  pain  to  the  enfeebled,  suffering  body 
when  daily  was  administered  the  soul's  medicine  and  food  ! 
Yes,  beloved,  ever  too  dearly  beloved  ones,  we  are  divided, 
and  what  but  the  deepness  of  sorrow,  what  but  the  weight 
of  grief,  would  rest  on  my  soul,  if  the  Future,  the  glorious 
Future,  the  existence  that  knows  no  death,  no  pain  nor  sepa- 
ration, were  not  seen  in  the  long  vista  through  which  Faith 
and  Hope  are  the  angelic  conductors  !  But  there  are  duties 
to  be  performed  here.  Life  is  not  to  be  expended  in  vain 
regrets.  No  day,  no  hour,  comes  but  brings  in  its  train 
work  to  be  performed  for  some  useful  end,  —  the  suffering 
to  be  comforted,  the  wandering  led  home,  the  sinner  re- 
claimed. Oh  !  how  can  any  fold  the  hands  to  rest,  and  say 
to  the  spirit,  '  Take  thine  ease,  for  all  is  well' !  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   OLDER   THEORIES   OF   INSANITY. 

THE  concluding  words  of  the  last  chapter,  "Oh! 
how  can  any  fold  the  hands  to  rest,  and  say  to  the  spirit, 
4  Take  thine  ease,  for  all  is  well ' !  "  proved  prophetic. 
Before  very  long  were  her  compassionate  heart  and 
dauntless  will  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  an  abyss 
of  human  misery  in  the  condition  of  the  helpless  and 
outcast  insane  throughout  the  land,  so  appalling  in 
the  scenes  it  opened  up  that  from  that  day  forward 
till  extreme  old  age  had  left  her  helpless  there  was  to 
be  for  her  no  more  folding  the  hands.  "  Take  thine 
ease,  for  all  is  well !  "  —  nay,  much  is  most  hideous, 
a  scandal  to  self -called  Christianity,  a  heartbreak  to 
any  one  with  a  trace  of  pity !  Such  was  henceforth 
the  haunting  cry  of  reality  ceaselessly  sounding  in  her 
ears  with  its  demand :  "  Woe  !  woe  !  if  thou  dost  not 
champion  these  outcast  and  miserable  ones."  Never 
was  a  redeeming  work  entered  on  with  a  clearer,  de- 
vouter  belief  in  a  direct  call  from  on  high,  or  a  more 
unhesitating  answer,  "  Here  am  I ;  send  me." 

Great  characters  never  appear  isolated  from  all 
sympathetic  surroundings.  They  are  more  than  ex- 
traordinarily forceful  individualities.  They  are  indi- 
vidualities lifted  on  the  crest  of  some  great  tidal  wave 
of  humanity.  Did  they  come  forward  as  simple  inno- 
vators, their  work  would  soon  be  brought  to  naught 
for  lack  of  historic  backing.  It  is  to  their  high  de- 


54  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

gree  of  receptibility,  to  their  sympathetic  power  of 
forecasting  and  co-working  with  forces  then  in  the  air, 
that  they  owe  their  power  of  achieving  such  seemingly 
miraculous  results. 

All  important  is  it,  therefore,  before  specifically  en- 
tering on  the  narrative  of  the  life  work  in  behalf  of 
the  insane,  to  which  Dorothea  L.  Dix  now  made  haste 
to  dedicate  herself  with  the  self-sacrifice  of  a  mar- 
tyr and  the  religious  fervor  of  a  saint,  to  review  as 
briefly  as  possible,  while  yet  with  needful  fullness  and 
circumstantiality,  the  exact  state  of  things  prevailing 
in  New  England  fifty  years  ago.  Thus  only  can  the 
reader  grasp  a  clear  conception  alike  of  the  point  of 
departure  and  of  the  goal  toward  which  everything 
must  be  made  to  tend.  It  is  a  review  which  must 
necessarily  embrace  the  previous  condition  of  theo- 
logical  thought  and  feeling  in  New  England,  together 
with  the  strange,  but  very  practical,  bearing  of  this 
thought,  as  well  on  the  administration  of  penal  law  as 
on  the  theory  and  treatment  of  a  certain  type  of  mys- 
terious and  awful  disease.  Such  review  must  further 
seek  to  contrast  with  all  this  the  growing  influence  of 
a  new  and  different  order  of  ideas,  finally  gathering 
head  and  making  themselves  felt  with  revolutionary 
power.  In  all  her  rationality,  in  all  her  enthusiasm 
of  humanity,  in  all  her  glowing  faith  in  the  birth  of  a 
new  epoch  in  human  history,  Miss  Dix  was  the  incar- 
nation of  the  sanguine  and  prophetic  spirit  of  her 
time. 

Throughout  the  whole  earlier  epoch  of  New  Eng- 
land history,  the  two  grand  forces  which  had  wrought 
together  for  the  education  of  the  people  had  been 
politics  and  religion.  The  necessity  of  laying  the 
foundation  of  the  state  in  what  had  been  a  previous 


THE   OLDER   THEORIES   OF  INSANITY.         55 

wilderness,  and  of  fostering  its  steady  progress  toward 
maturity,  had  demanded  a  constant  exercise  of  practi- 
cal sagacity  and  devoted  patriotism.  And  yet  all  this 
so  needful  work  had  been  regarded  but  as  temporal 
and  material  in  its  nature,  and  as  strictly  subsidiary 
to  something  higher.  In  comparison  with  the  over- 
whelming  realities  of  the  supernatural  world,  the 
claims  of  the  present  world  were  to  be  weighed  but 
as  dust  in  the  balance.  To  maintain  in  the  minds  of 
the  community  a  high -wrought  and  imaginatively 
vivid  sense  of  this  eternal  distinction  had  been  the 
unremitting  aim  of  the  powerful  theological  system  of 
Calvinism  that  dominated  the  great  majority  of  the 
people,  — a  system,  moreover,  whose  dogmas  had  been 
enforced  by  a  class  of  preachers  of  commanding  intel- 
lectual  power  and  rare  elevation  of  character. 

Here,  then,  was  an  iron-linked  system  of  theological 
thought,  which  embodied  elements  in  it  fitted  to  pro- 
duce, as  it  did  produce,  many  and  noble  spiritual 
results.  In  its  favor  must  it  be  said  that  it  had  disci- 
plined the  mind  to  close  reasoning  on  the  profoundest 
subjects ;  it  had  put  energy  into  the  will ;  it  had  led 
to  the  scorn  of  sloth  and  ease,  and  had  substituted  for 
these  the  stern  sense  of  duty;  it  had  developed,  more- 
over, in  a  select  class  of  finely  tempered  souls  a  rapt 
and  mystic  piety ;  —  but  along  with  these  great  advan- 
tages, it  had  none  the  less  always  carried  in  its  breast 
other  elements,  whose  inevitable  tendency  was  to  nar- 
row, harden,  and  well-nigh  annihilate  the  tenderer 
and  more  compassionate  qualities  of  human  nature. 
So  vastly  more  frequently  and  incisively  had  the 
righteous  wrath  of  God  been  emphasized  than  his 
redeeming  love,  that,  logically  enough,  the  majority 
of  men  and  women  had  been  led  to  cultivate  and 


56  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

morally  approve  in  themselves  the  same  inverted  re- 
lation between  these  two  attributes  which  they  wor- 
shiped in  their  Deity. 

r  Inevitably,  then,  were  the  penal  statutes  of  such 
communities  inexorably  severe.  The  prisoner,  an 
outcast  from  the  heart  of  God,  became  equally  an  out- 
cast from  the  heart  of  society.  The  little  he  might 
be  called  on  to  suffer  in  the  jail  from  mouldy  bread 
and  filthy  water,  from  foul  air  and  swarming  vermin, 
seemed  so  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  awful  fate 
awaiting  him  in  eternity,  as  scarcely  to  be  worthy  of 
consideration.  Nor  was  it  practically  different  with 
the  view  taken  of  the  condition  of  the  actually  insane. 
Nay,  in  certain  respects  it  was  worse.  The  terrible 
superstitions  of  the  Middle  Ages,  which  had  always 
sought  the  explanation  of  insanity  in  the  idea  of 
diabolic  possession,  and  had  seen  in  its  frenzies  of 
imprecation,  filthiness,  and  blasphemy  simply  the 
masterpiece  of  Satan,  still  hung  like  a  lurid  cloud 
over  the  human  mind.  Slowly,  slowly  only,  were  the 
conceptions  outgrown  which,  in  the  days  of  the  Salem 
Witchcraft,  had  rendered  possible  the  spectacle  of  an 
outbreak  of  superstitious  terror  powerful  enough  to 
transport  to  a  pitch  of  frenzy  not  merely  the  ignorant 
populace,  but  many  of  the  foremost  judges  and  divines 
of  the  land.  Such  crazy  fancies  of  hysteric  women 
as  would  to-day  be  treated  with  diet,  sedatives,  and 
change  of  air  were  in  those  days  treated,  spiritually, 
with  the  terrific  anathemas  of  the  church,  and,  judi- 
cially or  by  mob  law,  with  drowning  in  the  river  or 
the  hangman's  noose. 

Of  course,  as  time  went  on  and  enlightenment  grew 
greater,  the  virulence  of  these  Middle  Age  supersti- 
tions steadily  abated,  though  ever  lingering  in  the 


THE   OLDER   THEORIES  OF  INSANITY.         57 

background.  Practical  common  sense  began  to  make 
some  headway.  Still,  the  real  king  who  was  finally 
to  dethrone  these  imaginary  supernatural  terrors  had 
not  yet  seated  himself  on  the  throne.  The  old  theory 
of  insanity  lingered  on,  because  no  new  theory  half  as 
plausible  had  demonstrated  its  divine  right  of  succes- 
sion. Nor  yet  had  human  reason  come  to  the  full 
consciousness  of  itself,  through  the  study  of  those 
physical  laws  of  nature  whose  immutable  dictum  is 
the  one  and  only  basis  of  authority.  And  so,  with  the 
gradual  decadence  of  the  power  of  the  old  theological 
conceptions  over  the  imagination,  there  came  at  first 
another  theory  of  insanity,  which  was  but  a  partial 
modification  of  the  earlier  one,  and  which  preserved 
many  of  its  worst  features.  Insanity  was  pure  mental 
and  moral,  not  physical,  perversion.  It  was  the  out- 
break of  the  animal,  violent,  filthy,  blasphemous,  and 
murderous  elements  of  the  fallen  human  so?//,  elements 
which  had  culpably  been  permitted  to  get  the  upper 
hand  of  the  higher  attributes.  It  was  thus  a  fury  of 
the  mind,  not  a  fury  of  the  inflamed  and  congested 
body  acting  on  the  mind.  One  thing,  at  least,  was 
certain  of  it :  it  turned  men  and  women  into  tigers 
and  jackals ;  it  made  it  impossible  to  appeal  to  their 
reason,  and  thus  put  them  outside  the  category  of 
human  beings.  Iron  cages,  chains,  clubs,  starvation, 
must  still  remain  the  only  fit  instrumentalities  through 
which  to  dominate  menageries  of  such  wild  beasts. 
Not  that  a  certain  amount  of  crude  and  barbarous 
medical  prescription  —  of  purgings,  bleedings,  and 
emetics — 'did  not  go  along  with  all  this.  Still,  the 
whole  realm  of  the  subtler  relations  between  mind  and 
body  was  as  yet  a  terra  incognita.  And  so  the 
insane  were  inevitably  looked  upon  with  a  strange 


58  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

and  cruel  blending  of  repulsion,  personal  fear,  and  de- 
spair of  any  methods  but  those  of  physical  coercion. 

With  the  beginning,  however,  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  with  steadily  accumulating  force  as  its  years 
rolled  on,  a  great  change  began  to  come  over  New 
England,  and  especially  Massachusetts,  —  a  change 
which  was  rapidly  to  put  this  State  in  the  intellectual 
van  of  her  sister  States  of  the  Union.  More  frequent 
and  intimate  mental  communication  with  Europe 
brought  the  minds  of  aspiring  young  men  and  women 
into  contact  with  the  literature,  the  art,  the  science, 
the  philosophy,  of  the  older  world.  An  intellectual 
ferment  was  thus  set  on,  and,  through  it,  what  may 
accurately  enough  be  entitled  "  The  Renaissance  Pe- 
riod of  New  England  "  —  the  transition  from  linger- 
ing medisevalism  to  rising  modern  conceptions  —  now 
showed  vital  signs  of  drawing  on.  The  day  came  of 
fervid  reformers  in  theology  like  Channing  and  Emer- 
son, in  public  education  like  Horace  Mann,  in  practi- 
cal charity  like  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  in  the  rational  treat- 
ment of  insanity  like  Dr.  Woodward,  of  Worcester. 

Such,  then,  was  the  condition  of  things  in  New 
England  during  the  formative  period  in  which  the 
mind  of  Miss  Dix  was  coming  to  its  maturity.  On  no 
one  had  one  especial  class  of  the  ideas  of  the  "  New 
Awakening  "  —  not  so  much  its  literary  and  esthetic 
as  its  religious,  philanthropic,  and  scientific  ideas  — 
taken  a  stronger  hold  than  on  her.  She  had  drunk 
in  with  passionate  faith  Dr.  Channing's  fervid  insis- 
tence on  the  presence  in  human  nature,  even  under 
its  most  degraded  types,  of  germs,  at  least,  of  endless 
spiritual  development.  But  it  was  the  characteristic 
of  her  own  mind  that  it  tended,  not  to  protracted 
speculation,  but  to  immediate,  embodied  action.  Give 
her  a  seed  thought,  and  she  made  haste  to  plant  it, 


THE   OLDER   THEORIES  OF  INSANITY.         59 

water  it,  and  watch  it  grow,  flower,  and  fruit.  Though 
mummy  wheat,  buried  three  thousand  years  in  an 
Egyptian  tomb,  her  first  instinctive  impulse  was  to 
furnish  it  here  and  now  with  soil  and  sun,  and  see 
what  could  be  made  to  germinate.  In  other  words, 
she  delighted  in  positive  forces,  and  loved  to  co-work 
with  them  and  see  them  justify  themselves  in  practice. 
The  harder  the  conditions  under  which  they  were 
called  upon  to  do  this,  the  greater  the  triumph. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  Miss  Dix's  attention  became 
directed  to  the  pitiable  condition  of  the  insane,  it  was 
not  mere  sentimental  compassion  over  their  sufferings 
—  deeply  and  tragically  even  as  this  affected  her  — 
that  engrossed  her  mind,  but  the  immediate  construc- 
tive question,  What  class  of  positive  forces,  philan- 
thropic, medical,  legislative,  judiciary,  can  be  sum- 
moned into  the  field  to  cope  with  this  awful  problem  ? 
That  is,  she  proceeded  at  once  to  master  the  whole 
question  of  insanity,  its  origin,  its  stages  of  develop- 
ment, its  relations  of  body  and  mind,  its  treatment,  its 
legal  and  moral  rights,  and  to  put  herself  abreast  with 
the  most  advanced  thought  on  the  subject.  Here  was 
the  shriveled  and  desiccated  mummy  wheat  of  human- 
ity, which,  as  soon  as  she  encountered  it,  she  yearned 
to  see  raised  in  resurrection  from  the  tomb  in  which 
for  ages  it  had  been  buried. 

What,  then,  it  now  becomes  necessary  to  pause 
and  ask,  was  the  distinctive  character  of  the  new 
thought  which,  at  this  particular  period,  was  kindling 
the  humane  and  scientific  enthusiasm  of  the  more 
advanced  minds  of  Europe  and  America  on  the  whole 
matter  of  insanity  ?  A  clear  understanding  alone  of 
this  will  serve  to  put  the  reader  in  possession  of  the 
inspiring  creed  of  which  Dorothea  L.  Dix  was  now  to 
become  the  fervid  apostle. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   BREAKING   OF   A   NEW   DAY. 

IN  attempting  a  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of  the 
treatment  of  insanity  in  the  past,  it  is  not  necessary 
here  to  harrow  the  mind  with  circumstantial  details 
of  the  frightful  forms  of  exorcism  practiced  by  the 
Church  throughout  the  Middle  Ages,  to  the  end  of 
driving  the  devils  out  of  their  supposed  victims ;  nor 
of  the  medicines,  as  loathsome  as  those  brewed  from 
newts  and  toads  in  the  caldron  of  Macbeth's  witches, 
which  were  habitually  administered  ;  nor  of  the  chains, 
whippings,  bleedings,  and  duckings  which  were  thought 
necessary  to  physically  weaken  or  subdue  with  terror 
the  more  violent  outbreaks  of  fury.  The  seemingly 
unaccountable  thing  is,  that  it  should  have  been  at  so 
late  a  day  in  the  history  of  civilization  that,  except  in 
the  rarest  instances,  anything  more  rational  began  to 
be  believed  in.  Of  this  let  a  single  example  suffice, 
—  that  of  Bethlehem  Hospital  in  London,  popularly 
known  as  "Old  Bedlam." 

Up  to  so  late  a  date  as  1770,  this  famous  hospital 
was  still  regarded  as  the  raree  show  of  the  city,  supe- 
rior even,  in  the  attractions  it  offered  the  pleasure- 
seeker,  to  a  bull  baiting  or  a  dog  fight.  No  more  di- 
verting entertainment  could  be  devised  by  the  average 
citizen  for  guests  visiting  him  from  the  country  than 
to  take  them,  for  a  hearty  laugh,  to  Bedlam,  to  see  the 
madmen  cursing,  raving,  and  fighting.  There  was  to 


THE  BREAKING   OF  A  NEW  DAY.  61 

be  had  on  show  St.  Paul  or  Julius  Caesar  chained  to 
the  wall,  or  Semiramis  or  Joan  of  Arc  ironed  to  the 
floor,  while  the  general  throng,  left  more  at  liberty, 
were  guarded  by  brutal  keepers,  ready  on  the  slightest 
provocation  to  knock  them  senseless  with  heavy  clubs. 
The  annual  fees  derived  from  this  public  entertain- 
ment amounted  to  several  hundred  pounds.  No  one 
seems  to  have  felt  any  pity  for  the  poor  wretches. 
The  abyss  which  opened  up  between  them  and  ordi- 
nary humanity  was  too  deep  and  wide  for  any  sym- 
pathetic imagination  to  span.  A  madhouse  was  a 
menagerie,  nothing  more ;  and  it  was  as  legitimate  to 
look  through  the  bars  at  one  class  of  wild  beasts  as  at 
another. 

Think,  farther,  of  the  system  of  medical  practice 
that,  at  as  late  a  date  even  as  1815,  and  then  detailed 
before  the  committee  of  the  House  of  Parliament  by 
one  of  the  visiting  physicians,  Dr.  T.  Monro, l  was 
still  pursued  at  Bedlam.  "  Patients,"  said  Dr.  Monro, 
"  are  ordered  to  be  bled  about  the  latter  end  of  May, 
according  to  the  weather ;  and,  after  they  have  been 
bled,  they  take  vomits  once  a  week  for  a  certain  num- 
ber of  weeks  ;  after  that  we  purge  the  patients.  That 
has  been  the  practice  invariably  for  long  years  before 
my  time,  and  I  do  not  know  of  any  better  practice."  - 
Then  as  to  the  matter  of  simple  protection  from  the 
inclemency  of  the  weather:  "Even  in  the  new  build- 
ing "  (says  Sydney  Smith, "  Edinburgh  Review,"  1815- 
16),  "the  windows  of  the  patients'  bedrooms  were  not 
glazed,  nor  were  the  latter  warmed."  What  this  must 
have  meant,  throughout  the  chill  fogs  and  freezing 
nights  of  a  London  winter,  to  poor  wretches  chained 

1  History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Isles.     D.  H.  Tuke,  M.  D., 
F.  R.  C.  P.,  etc. 


62  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

down  to  their  beds  for  the  night,  it  needs  no  words  to 
portray.  The  wild-beast  theory  of  insanity,  which  had 
succeeded  to  the  diabolical-possession  theory,  still 
reigned  unbroken  in  the  great  majority  of  hospitals. 

Strangely  enough,  it  was  first  in  Paris,  and  at  the 
height  of  the  frenzy  of  the  French  Revolution,  when 
the  excitement  of  the  times  had  filled  the  wards  of 
the  asylums  with  the  most  violent  patients,  that  the 
great  moral  genius  appeared  who  was  destined  to  inau- 
gurate a  complete  revolution  in  the  theory  and  treat- 
ment of  insanity,  —  a  revolution  ordained  to  prove 
historically  quite  as  effective  in  the  overthrow  of  the 
old  dynasty  of  force  and  terror  that  had  reigned  in 
these  institutions  as  was  that  of  the  Jacobins  in  the 
overthrow  of  the  old  dynasty  of  French  monarchism. 
"Individual  liberty!  "  had  been  the  fierce  cry  raised 
by  the  Jacobins,  who  forthwith  proceeded  to  secure  it 
for  themselves  and  their  own  ideas  by  fire  and  slaugh- 
ter. "  Individual  liberty,  the  most  of  it  possible  !  " 
was  equally  the  cry  of  the  gentle,  merciful,  far-seeing 
Dr.  Philippe  Pinel,  on  receiving,  in.  1792,  the  appoint- 
ment of  superintendent  of  the  Bicetre,  the  asylum  for 
incurable  insane  males.  "  Off  with  these  chains  !  away 
with  these  iron  cages  and  brutal  keepers  !  They  make 
a  hundred  madmen  where  they  cure  one.  There  is 
another  and  a  better  way.  The  insane  man  is  not  an 
inexplicable  monster.  He  is  but  one  of  ourselves,  only 
a  little  more  so.  Underneath  his  wildest  paroxysms 
there  is  a  germ,  at  least,  of  rationality  and  of  personal 
accountability.  To  believe  in  this,  to  seek  for  it, 
stimulate  it,  build  it  up,  —  here  lies  the  only  way  of 
delivering  him  out  of  the  fatal  bondage  in  which  he  is 
held!" 

With   unflagging   persistency  did  Pinel  now  urge 


THE  BREAKING   OF  A  NEW  DAY.  63 

these  humane  convictions  on  the  Commune,  and  seek 
to  get  authority  to  try  the  effect  of  his  scheme  on  at 
least  one  fourth  of  his  patients.  The  idea  seemed  to 
those  he  argued  with  as  wildly  visionary  as  a  deliber- 
ate proposal  to  go  out  to  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  and 
fling  wide  the  gratings  to  the  jaguars  and  tigers  con- 
fined there.  At  last,  however,  he  persuaded  the  fero- 
cious Couthon  to  go  with  him  to  the  Bicetre,  and  con- 
sider the  problem  on  the  spot.1  "  They  were  greeted 
in  the  gloomy  prison  by  the  yells  and  execrations  of 
three  hundred  maniacs,  mingling  the  clanking  of  their 
chains  with  the  uproar  of  their  voices." 

Already  had  Couthon  had  long  and  familiar  expe- 
rience in  dealing  with  the  most  savage  elements  of  so- 
ciety. But  before  the  proposition  now  made  him  he 
utterly  quailed.  "  After  looking  over  the  patients,  he 
said  to  Pin  el,  4  Ah,  $a !  citoyen,  es-tu  fou  toi-meme  de 
vouloir  de'chainer  de  pareils  animaux  ? '  (Citizen,  are 
you  crazy  yourself,  that  you  would  unchain  such 
beasts  ?)  "  Permission,  however,  to  try  the  mad  ex- 
periment was  finally  given,  some  of  the  first  results  of 
which  will  be  found  recorded  in  the  following  abridg- 
ment of  a  portion  of  a  memoir,  read  by  the  son  of 
Pinel  before  the  Royal  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences :  — 

"  Near  the  close  of  the  year  1792,  M.  Pinel,  having  re- 
peatedly importuned  the  government  to  issue  a  decree  per- 
mitting him  to  unchain  the  maniacs  at  the  Bicetre,  went  in 
person  to  solicit  what  had  been  refused  to  his  written  rep- 
resentations. With  courage  and  resolution  he  urged  the 
removal  of  this  cruel  abuse.  At  length,  M.  Couthon,  mem- 
ber of  the  commune,  yielded  to  the  importunate  arguments 
of  Pinel,  and  consented  to  meet  him  at  the  hospital,  to  wit- 
1  Disease  of  the  Mind,  by  Charles  F.  Folsom,  M.  D.,  p.  8. 


64  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

ness  these  first  experiments,  as  well  as  to  assure  himself 
that  this  was  not  a  stratagem  to  give  liberty  to  political  of- 
fenders. Couthon  proceeded,  himself,  to  question  the  pa- 
tients, but  received  only  abuse  and  execrations,  accompanied 
by  terrible  cries  and  the  clanking  of  clains.  Retreating 
from  the  damp  and  filthy  cells,  he  exclaimed  to  Pinel,  *  Do 
as  you  will ;  but  you  will  be  sacrificed  to  this  false  senti- 
ment of  inercy.'  Pinel  delayed  no  longer :  he  selected 
fifty  who  he  believed  might  be  released  from  their  chains 
without  danger  to  others.  The  fetters  were  removed,  first, 
from  twelve,  using  the  precaution  of  having  prepared  strong 
jackets,  closing  behind,  with  long  sleeves,  which  could  be 
used  if  necessary. 

"  The  experiments  commenced  with  an  English  captain, 
whose  history  was  unknown  :  he  had  been  in  chains  forty 
years  !  As  he  was  thought  to  be  one  of  the  most  danger- 
ous, having  killed,  at  one  time,  an  attendant  with  a  blow 
from  his  manacles,  the  keepers  approached  him  with  cau- 
tion ;  but  first  Pinel  entered  his  cell  unattended.  t  Ah, 
well,  captain,  I  will  cause  your  chains  to  be  taken  off ;  you 
shall  have  liberty  to  walk  in  the  court,  if  you  will  promise 
to  behave  like  a  gentleman,  and  offer  no  assault  to  those 
you  will  meet.'  1 1  would  promise,'  said  the  maniac  ;  '  but 
you  deride  me,  you  are  amusing  yourself  at  my  expense  ; 
you  all  fear  me,  once  free.'  '  I  have  six  men,'  replied 
Pinel,  *  ready  to  obey  my  orders  :  believe  me,  therefore,  I 
will  set  you  free  from  this  duresse,  if  you  will  put  on  this 
jacket.'  The  captain  assented ;  the  chains  were  removed, 
and  the  jacket  laced  ; — the  keepers  withdrew,  without  clos- 
ing the  door.  He  raised  himself,  but  fell :  this  effort  was 
repeated  again  and  again ;  the  use  of  his  limbs,  so  long  con- 
strained, nearly  failed  :  at  length,  trembling,  and  with  tot- 
tering steps,  he  emerged  from  his  dark  dungeon.  His  first 
look  was  at  the  sky  !  *  Ah,'  cried  he,  '  how  beautiful ! ' 
The  remainder  of  the  day  he  was  constantly  moving  to  and 
fro,  uttering  continually  exclamations  of  pleasure  ;  —  he 


THE  BREAKING   OF  A   NEW  DAY.  65 

heeded  no  one  :  the  flowers,  tlie  trees,  above  all  the  sky, 
engrossed  him.  At  night  he  voluntarily  returned  to  his 
cell,  which  had  been  cleansed  and  furnished  with  a  better 
bed  :  his  sleep  was  tranquil  and  profound.  For  the  two  re- 
maining years  which  he  spent  in  the  hospital  he  had  no  re- 
currence of  violent  paroxysms,  and  often  rendered  good 
service  to  the  keepers  in  conducting  the  affairs  of  the  es- 
tablishment. 

"The  patient  released  next  after  the  captain  was  Che- 
vinge,  a  soldier  of  the  French  Guards,  who  had  been 
chained  ten  years,  and  had  been  peculiarly  difficult  of  con- 
trol. Pinel,  entering  his  cell,  announced  that  if  he  would 
obey  his  injunctions  he  should  be  chained  no  longer.  He 
promised,  and,  following  every  movement  of  his  liberator, 
executed  his  directions  with  alacrity  and  address.  Never, 
in  the  history  of  the  human  mind,  was  exhibited  a  more 
sudden  and  complete  revolution ;  he  executed  every  order 
with  exactness  ;  and  this  patient,  whose  best  years  had  been 
sacrificed  in  a  gloomy  cell,  in  chains  and  misery,  soon 
showed  himself  capable  of  being  one  of  the  most  useful  per- 
sons about  the  establishment.  He  repeatedly,  during  the 
horrors  of  the  Revolution,  saved  the  life  of  his  benefactor. 
On  one  occasion,  he  encountered  a  band  of  '  sans  culottes ' 
who  were  bearing  Pinel  to  *  the  Lanterne,'  owing  to  his  hav- 
ing been  an  elector  in  1789.  With  bold  and  determined 
purpose  he  rescued  his  beloved  master,  and  caused  that  life 
to  be  spared  which  had  been  so  great  a  blessing  to  the  in- 
sane in  France. 

"  In  the  third  cell  were  three  Prussian  soldiers,  who  had 
been  for  many  years  in  chains,  but  how  or  for  what  they 
had  been  committed  none  kneiv  ;  they  were  not  dangerous, 
and  seemed  capable  of  enjoying  the  indulgence  of  living  to- 
gether. They  were  terrified  at  the  preparations  for  their 
release,  fearing  new  severities  awaited  them.  Sunk  into 
dementia,  they  were  indifferent  to  the  freedom  offered. 

"  An  aged  priest  came  next ;  he  fancied  himself  to  be 
the  Messiah.  Taunted  once  with  the  exclamation  that  if  in 


66  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

truth  he  was  Christ  he  could  break  his  chains,  he  answered 
with  solemnity,  '  Frustra  tentas  Dominum  tuum  I '  Re- 
ligious exaltation  had  characterized  his  life.  On  foot,  he 
had  made  pilgrimages  to  Rome  and  Cologne ;  he  had  made 
a  voyage  to  the  Western  world  to  convert  savage  tribes. 
This  ruling  idea  passed  into  mania,  and  returning  to  France, 
he  declared  that  he  was  Christ,  the  Saviour.  He  was  ar- 
rested on  the  charge  of  blasphemy,  and  taken  before  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  by  whose  decree  he  was  consigned  to 
the  Bicetre,  as  either  a  blasphemer  or  a  madman.  Loaded 
with  heavy  chains,  he  for  twelve  years  bore  patiently  sar- 
casm and  cruel  sufferings.  Pinel  had  the  happiness  to  wit- 
ness his  recovery  in  less  than  a  year,  and  to  discharge  him 
from  the  hospital  cured. 

"  In  the  short  period  of  a  few  days,  Pinel  released  from 
their  chains  more  than  fifty  maniacs,  men  of  various  ranks 
and  conditions,  merchants,  lawyers,  priests,  soldiers,  labor- 
ers, —  thus  rendering  the  furious  tractable,  and  creating 
peace  and  contentment,  to  a  wonderful  degree,  where  long 
the  most  hideous  scenes  of  tumult  and  disorder  had  reigned." 

It  was  in  1796,  only  four  years  after  Pinel's  first 
experiment  in  the  Bicetre,  and  entirely  independently 
of  any  knowledge  of  his  work,  that  a  precisely  similar 
reform  was  inaugurated  in  England,  - —  this  time  not 
by  a  physician,  but  by  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  William  Tuke,  a  merchant  of  ample  fortune 
and  great  benevolence  and  force  of  character.  In 
building  with  his  own  means  "  The  Retreat "  at  York, 
and  retaining  the  absolute  control  of  its  policy  in  his 
own  hands,  he  prepared  a  suitable  place  for  a  fair 
trial  of  the  new  method  he  proposed. 

It  was  by  no  mere  chance,  as  men  call  chance,  that 
this  great  reform  in  England  sprang  from  the  mind 
and  heart  of  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends. 
The  leading  tenet  of  the  Quakers,  faith  in  the  power 


THE  BREAKING   OF  A   NEW  DAY.  67 

of  absolute  reason,  and  the  identification  of  absolute 
reason  with  the  immediate  divine  presence  in  the  soul, 
was  one  that  logically  led  to  just  such  an  experiment 
as  this,  as  likewise  to  invincible  faith  in  its  success. 
No  other  religious  sect  in  Christendom  had  accumu- 
lated, and  transmitted  through  inheritance  to  their 
children,  so  great  a  mass  of  testimony  as  to  the  power 
of  gentleness,  patience,  and  inward  self-control  to 
evolve  rational  order  out  of  the  chaos  of  warring  hu- 
man passions.  William  Tuke  had  the  moral  great- 
ness to  see  with  perfect  clearness,  and  to  pursue  with 
heroic  persistence,  one  luminous  conviction,  namely, 
that  precisely  the  same  moral  and  physical  regimen 
which  has  proved  itself  the  only  power  adapted  to 
quicken,  mature,  and  firmly  establish  the  elements  of 
reason  and  self-government  in  ourselves  and  our  chil- 
dren, is  the  sole  regimen  that  can  be  trusted  to  do  the 
like  for  the  feebler  and  more  sorely  beset  elements  of 
the  same  essential  reason  in  these  poor  afflicted  ones. 

"  His  feeling  that  something  should  be  done  had  been 
strengthened  by  a  visit  he  had  paid  to  St.  Luke's  'Hospital, 
where  he  saw  the  patients  lying  on  straw  and  in  chains. 
He  was  distressed  with  the  scene,  and  could  not  help  be- 
lieving that  there  was  a  more  excellent  way.  .  .  .  One  day, 
in  the  family  circle,  conversation  turned  on  the  name  that 
should  be  given  to  the  proposed  institution.  «  The  Retreat/ 
quickly  replied  the  good  wife.  What 's  in  a  name  ? 
Everything  at  times.  It  was  at  once  seen  that  feminine  in- 
stinct had  solved  the  question,  and  the  name  was  adopted, 
to  convey  the  idea  of  what  such  an  institution  should  be, 
namely,  a  place  in  which  the  unhappy  might  obtain  a  ref- 
uge ;  a  quiet  haven  in  which  the  shattered  bark  might  find 
the  means  of  reparation  or  of  safety."  J 

1  History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Isles,  p.  115,  by  Daniel  Hack 
Tuke,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  C.  P. 


68  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"  In  person,"  writes  a  contemporary  of  William 
Tuke,  "  he  hardly,  reached  the  middle  size,  but  was 
erect,  portly,  and  of  a  firm  step.  He  had  a  noble  fore- 
head, an  eagle  eye,  and  a  commanding  voice,  and  his 
mien  was  dignified  and  patriarchal."  Like  all  pio- 
neers in  the  struggle  of  human  progress,  he  had  to 
encounter  his  full  share  of  ridicule,  obloquy,  and  op- 
position. In  the  end,  however,  he  triumphed,  and 
"  The  Retreat  at  York  "  became  a  beacon  light  of  the 
world,  shining  through  the  dark  night  of  one  of  the 
gloomiest  chapters  of  human  history. 

Philippe  Pinel  and  William  Tuke :  these,  then,  were 
the  two  original  minds  that  inaugurated  a  new  epoch 
in  the  history  of  the  treatment  of  insanity,  an  epoch  as 
revolutionary  in  character  within  this  especial  realm 
as  that  of  the  Copernican  system  in  the  realm  of  as- 
tronomy. It  implied  an  absolute  reversal  of  all  pre- 
vious conceptions ;  the  substitution,  in  the  place  of 
restraint  and  force,  of  the  largest  possible  degree  of 
liberty ;  the  abandonment  of  the  whole  previous  idea 
of  brute  subjection  for  that  of  the  emancipation  of 
the  reason  and  the  enhancement  of  the  sense  of  per- 
sonal responsibility.  Each  one  of  these  remarkable 
men  achieved  his  task  uninformed  of  the  action  of  the 
other. 

"  It  is  no  new  thing  [says  the  eminent  American  alienist, 
Dr.  Pliny  Earle,  in  commenting  on  this  singular  coinci- 
dence] for  inventions,  discoveries,  and  innovations  upon 
traditionary  practices  to  originate  almost  simultaneously  in 
more  than  one  place,  showing  that  they  are  called  for  by  the 
times  ;  that  they  are  developments  of  science  and  humanity, 
necessary  evolutions  of  the  human  mind  in  its  progress  to- 
ward the  unattainable  perfect,  rather  than  what  may  be 
termed  a  gigantic  and  monstrous  production  of  one  original 
genius." 


THE  BREAKING   OF  A  NEW  DAY.  69 

Happily.,  the  most  characteristic  mark  of  distinction 
between  the  last  hundred  years  and  the  centuries 
which  preceded  them  lies  in  the  rapidity  with  which 
new  ideas,  even  the  most  revolutionary,  spread,  pro- 
vided only  they  can  justify  themselves  before  the  tri- 
bunal of  reason.  Such  proved  true  of  the  startling 
innovation  wrought  by  Pinel  and  Tuke.  By  1838, 
Dr.  Gardner  Hill,  house  surgeon  of  Lincoln  Asylum, 
England,  ably  seconded  by  Dr.  Charlesworth,  had 
asserted  the  principle  of  the  entire  abolition  of  me- 
chanical restraint,  and  had  to  a  very  large  extent  car- 
ried it  out,  though  personally  falling  a  victim  to  the 
bitter  opposition  he  encountered  alike  from  commis- 
sioners and  his  own  medical  brethren.  But  imme- 
diately followed  the  remarkable  career  of  Dr.  John 
Conolly,  who  at  Hanwell,  on  a  much  larger  scale  and 
with  far  greater  success,  came  to  the  rescue  of  the 
cause. 

"  To  Conolly,"  says  the  "  Edinburgh  Keview,"  April, 
1870,  "  belongs  a  still  higher  crown,  not  merely  for 
his  courage  in  carrying  out  a  beneficent  conception  on 
a  large  scale  and  on  a  conspicuous  theatre,  but  for  his 
genius  in  expanding  it.  To  him,  hobbles  and  chains, 
handcuffs  and  muffs,  were  but  material  impediments 
that  merely  confined  the  limbs ;  to  get  rid  of  these  he 
spent  the  best  years  of  his  life ;  but  beyond  these  me- 
chanical fetters  he  saw  there  were  a  hundred  fetters 
to  the  spirit,  which  human  sympathy,  courage,  and 
time  only  could  remove." 

The  dire  instruments  of  coercion  formerly  in  con- 
stant use  Dr.  Conolly  remanded  to  a  room  in  the 
asylum,  and  there  constituted  a  museum  of  them,  a 
Chamber  of  Horrors,  which  the  enlightened  physician 
of  to-day  contemplates  with  practically  the  same  feel- 


70  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

ings  which  would  be  excited  in  him  by  a  visit  to  the 
old  dungeons  and  instruments  of  torture  of  the  inqui- 
sition. And  yet,  so  recently  had  the  possibility  of 
such  a  change  been  dreamed  of  that  Dr.  Conolly  re- 
lates that  he  himself  had  formerly  witnessed  "  humane 
English  physicians  daily  contemplating  insane  patients 
,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  neck  and  waist,  in  illness, 
in  pain,  and  in  the  agonies  of  death,  without  one  sin- 
gle touch  of  compunction,  or  the  slightest  approach 
to  the  feeling  of  acting  either  cruelly  or  unwisely. 
They  thought  it  impossible  to  manage  insane  people 
in  any  other  way."  1 

Is  it,  then,  exaggeration  to  characterize  the  absolute 
change  of  base  inaugurated  by  the  labors  of  Pinel  and 
Tuke  as  a  Copernican  revolution  in  the  realm  of  the 
theory  and  treatment  of  insanity  ? 

The  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  saw  in 
the  whole  United  States  but  four  insane  asylums,  of 
which  one  only  had  been  entirely  built  by  a  State 
government.  They  were,  in  the  order  of  the  dates  of 
their  foundation,  those  of  Philadelphia,  Penn.,  1752 ; 
of  Williamsburg,  Va.  (the  first  State  asylum),  1773 ; 
of  New  York,  1791 ;  of  Baltimore,  Md.,  1797.  In 

1  "  After  five  years'  experience,"  wrote  Dr.  Conolly,  "  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  recording  my  opinion  that,  with  a  well-constituted  gov- 
erning body,  animated  by  philanthropy,  directed  by  intelligence,  and 
acting  by  means  of  proper  officers  (entrusted  with  a  due  degree  of  au- 
thority over  attendants,  properly  selected,  and  capable  of  exercising 
an  efficient  superintendence  over  patients),  there  is  no  asylum  in  the 
world  in  which  all  mechanical  restraint  may  not  be  abolished,  not 
only  with  perfect  safety,  but  with  incalculable  advantage."  (Tuke's 
History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Isles.)  It  may  be  that  this  is  too 
ideal  a  statement  of  what  is  possible  under  any  but  the  rarest  combi- 
nation of  circumstances.  Dr.  Conolly  was  a  man  of  positive  genius  in 
his  calling,  and  of  a  magnetism  and  spirit  of  consecration  that  carried 
all  before  him.  At  any  rate,  it  was  in  the  right  direction. 


THE  BREAKING   OF  A  NEW  DAY.  71 

1813,  attention  was  attracted  to  Tuke's  work  in  Eng- 
land by  certain  Philadelphia  Friends,  who,  collecting 
funds,  opened  in  1817  a  hospital  in  which  the  insane 
might  see  that  they  were  "  regarded  as  men  and  breth- 
ren." One  year  later  witnessed  the  foundation  of  the 
McLean  Asylum  at  Somerville,  Mass.,  —  the  asylum 
which  "established  the  character  and  principles  of 
treatment  which  have  become  universal  with  us,  and 
especially  the  principle  of  State  supervision."  Later 
on,  "The  Retreat"  at  Hartford,  Conn.,  opened  in 
1824,  and  the  asylum  at  Worcester,  Mass.,  in  1830, 
became  conspicuous  examples  of  the  practical  applica- 
tion of  the  new  scientific  and  humane  ideas  inaugu- 
rated by  Pinel  and  Tuke. 

"  There  were  giants  on  the  earth  in  those  days," 
says,  in  his  paper  on  "  Progress  in  Provision  for  the 
Insane,"  Dr.  W.  W.  Godding,  of  the  Government  In- 
sane As}  lum  for  the  Army  and  Navy  in  Washington, 
D.  C.  Dr.  Godding  had  been  speaking  of  the  memo- 
rable list  of  men  in  the  United  States  who  at  that 
early  date  had  already  been  attracted  by  genius  and 
character  to  the  development  of  the  new  system; 
Brigham,  Butler,  Woodward,  Ray,  Walker,  Bell, 
Stribling,  Grey,  Kirkbride.  Here,  enlisted  with  con- 
secrated intelligence  and  humanity  under  the  new 
banner,  was  a  chosen  band,  who  were  destined  before 
very  long  to  carry  the  fame  of  American  asylums  all 
over  Europe,  and,  for  a  time  at  least,  to  keep  them 
ahead  of  any  in  the  world. 

None  the  less,  one  indispensable  spiritual  power  in 
the  land  was  still  lacking.  It  was  that  of  a  fervid 
apostle  of  the  new  creed ;  of  one  animated  with  the 
requisite  inspiration  and  fire  to  lead  a  crusade  against 
the  almost  universal  ignorance,  superstition,  and  apa- 


72  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

thy  which  still  reigned  over  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
States  of  the  Union  ;  of  a  mind  and  heart,  in  fine, 
powerful  enough  to  rally  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands to  the  deliverance  from  the  hand  of  the  infidel 
of  what  should  seem  to  her  no  less  than  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  of  crucified  humanity.  This  imperative  de- 
mand was  now  to  be  answered  in  the  person  of  Doro- 
thea Lynde  Dix. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   DESCENT  INTO   INFERNO. 

IT  was  on  March  28,  1841,  that  Miss  Dix  was  first 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  condition  of  things  pre- 
vailing in  the  jails  and  almshouses  of  Massachusetts, 
which  launched  her  on  her  great  career.  The  story, 
repeated  in  so  many  scattered  notices  of  her  life,  runs 
that,  on  coming  out  of  church  one  Sunday,  she  over- 
heard two  gentlemen  speaking  in  such  terms  of  indig- 
nation and  horror  of  the  treatment  to  which  the 
prisoners  and  lunatics  in  the  East  Cambridge,  Massa- 
chusetts, jail  were  subjected  that  she  forthwith  deter- 
mined to  go  over  there  and  look  into  matters  herself. 
The  occurrence  of  the  incident  is  perfectly  possible ; 
but  the  important  fact  of  the  case  is  given  in  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  a  letter  of  Rev.  John  T.  G.  Nich- 
ols, D.  D.,  of  Saco,  Maine : — 

"  While  a  member  of  the  theological  school  in  Cam- 
bridge [writes  Dr.  Nichols],  I  was  one  of  a  body  of  stu- 
dents who  took  the  East  Cambridge  house  of  correction 
in  charge  for  Sunday-school  instruction.  All  the  women, 
twenty  in  number,  were  assigned  to  me.  I  was  at  once  con- 
vinced that,  not  a  young  man,  but  a  woman  should  be  their 
teacher.  Consulting  my  mother,  I  was  directed  by  her  to 
Miss  Dix  for  further  counsel.  On  hearing  my  account,  Miss 
Dix  said,  after  some  deliberation,  '  I  will  take  them  myself  ! ' 
I  protested  her  physical  incapacity,  as  she  was  in  feeble 
health.  '  I  shall  be  there  next  Sunday,'  was  her  answer. 

"  After  the  school  was  over,  Miss  Dix  went  into  the  jaiL 


74  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

She  found  among  the  prisoners  a  few  insane  persons,  with 
whom  she  talked.  She  noticed  there  was  no  stove  in  their 
room,  and  no  means  of  proper  warmth.  The  jailer  said 
that  a  fire  for  them  was  not  needed,  and  would  not  be  safe. 
Her  repeated  solicitations  were  without  success.  At  that 
time  the  court  was  in  session  at  East  Cambridge,  and  she 
caused  the  case  to  be  brought  before  it.  Her  request  was 
granted.  The  cold  rooms  were  warmed.  Thus  was  her 
great  work  commenced.  Of  course  I  claim  not  a  particle  of 
credit.  I  was  simply  the  instrument  of  the  Good  Providence 
to  open  the  door  for  this  Angel  of  Mercy  to  come  in." 

It  was  thus  that,  in  the  East  Cambridge  jail,  Miss 
Dix  was  first  brought  into  immediate  contact  with  the 
overcrowding,  the  filth,  and  the  herding  together  of 
innocent,  guilty,  and  insane  persons,  which  at  that 
time  characterized  the  prisons  of  Massachusetts,  and 
the  inevitable  evils  of  which  were  repeated  in  even 
worse  shape  in  the  almshouses.  Her  first  act,  as  has 
been  seen,  was  the  practical  one  of  enforcing  mercy  by 
law,  through  insisting  that,  in  a  climate  where  in  win- 
ter the  thermometer  frequently  registers  zero  and  be- 
low, a  fire  of  some  sort  should  be  provided  for  shiver- 
ing wretches  who  in  their  frenzy  often  tore  the  clothes 
off  their  backs.  Casting  about  her  for  help,  she  soon 
succeeded  in  enlisting  the  aid  of  that  ever  loyal  friend 
of  humanity,  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  and,  through  him,  that 
of  the  afterwards  famous  philanthropist  and  states- 
man, Charles  Sumner.  Close  beside  her,  too,  stood 
Rev.  Robert  C.  Waterston. 

At  Miss  Dix's  solicitation,  Dr.  Howe  himself  made 
a  careful  examination,  the  result  of  which  was  printed 
in  an  article  in  the  Boston  "  Daily  Advertiser  "  of  Sep- 
tember 8,  1841 ;  an  article  of  course  fiercely  attacked, 
as  is  generally  the  case  when  abuses  are  pointed  out. 


THE  DESCENT  INTO  INFERNO.       75 

Later  on  in  the  controversy,  Dr.  Howe  appealed  for 
corroboration  to  Charles  Simmer,  who  had  accompa- 
nied him  on  his  visit.  To  this  Mr.  Simmer  replied :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  HOWE,  —  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  your  article 
does  present  a  truepwture  of  the  condition  in  which  we  found 
those  unfortunates.  They  were  cramped  together  in  rooms 
poorly  ventilated  and  noisome  with  filth.  .  .  .  You  cannot 
forget  the  small  room  in  which  were  confined  the  raving 
maniac,  from  whom  long  since  reason  had  fled,  never  to  re- 
turn, and  that  interesting  young  woman,  whose  mind  was 
so  slightly  obscured  that  it  seemed  as  if,  in  a  moment,  even 
while  we  were  looking  on,  the  cloud  would  pass  away.  In 
two  cages  or  pens  constructed  of  plank,  within  the  four  stone 
walls  of  the  same  room,  these  two  persons  had  spent  several 
months.  The  whole  prison  echoed  with  the  blasphemies  of 
the  poor  old  woman,  while  her  young  and  gentle  fellow  in 
suffering,  doomed  to  pass  her  days  and  nights  in  such  close 
connection  with  her,  seemed  to  shrink  from  her  words  as 
from  blows.  And  well  she  might ;  for  they  were  words  not 
to  be  heard  by  any  woman  in  whom  reason  had  left  any 
vestige  of  its  former  presence.  It  was  a  punishment  by  a 
cruel  man  in  heathen  days  to  tie  the-  living  to  the  dead ; 
hardly  less  horrid  was  this  scene  in  the  prison  at  Cam- 
bridge. 

"  Ever  faithfully  yours,  CHARLES  SUMNER." 

Was  the  state  of  things  in  the  East  Cambridge  jail 
an  exception,  or  did  it  simply  exemplify  the  rule 
throughout  the  whole  Commonwealth  ?  This  was  the 
painful  question  now  raised  in  the  mind  of  Miss  Dix, 
to  an  unmistakable  answer  to  which  she  resolutely 
devoted  the  next  two  years.  Note-book  in  hand,  she 
started  out  on  her  voyage  of  exploration,  visiting  every 
jail  and  almshouse  from  Berkshire  on  the  west  to 
Cape  Cod  on  the  east.  Steadily  accumulating  her 
statistics  of  outrage  and  misery,  she  at  last  got  to- 


76  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

gether  a  mass  of  eye-witness  testimony  appalling  in 
extent  and  detail.  With  this  she  now  determined  to 
memorialize  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts. 

As  this  was  the  first  Memorial  addressed  by  Miss 
Dix  to  a  State  legislature,  —  long  as  was  the  series  of 
the  like  that  was  to  follow,  —  full  extracts  from  it  are 
needful,  alike  to  reveal  the  patience,  energy,  and  spirit 
of  humanity  with  which  she  addressed  herself  to  her 
work,  as  well  as  the  actual  character  of  the  evils  she 
was  now  in  arms  against :  — 

"  GENTLEMEN  :  .  .  .  About  two  years  since,  leisure  afforded 
opportunity,  and  duty  prompted  me,  to  visit  several  prisons 
and  almshouses  in  the  vicinity  of  this  metropolis.  .  .  .  Every 
investigation  has  given  depth  to  the  conviction  that  it  is  only 
by  decided,  prompt,  and  vigorous  legislation  that  the  evils 
to  which  I  refer,  and  which  I  shall  proceed  more  fully  to  il- 
lustrate, can  be  remedied.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  speak  with 
great  plainness,  and  to  reveal  many  things  revolting  to  the 
taste,  and  from  which  my  woman's  nature  shrinks  with  pe- 
culiar sensitiveness.  But  truth  is  the  highest  consideration. 
/  tell  what  I  have  seen,  painful  and  shocking  as  the  de- 
tails often  are,  that  from  them  you  may  feel  more  deeply 
the  imperative  obligation  which  lies  upon  you  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  a  repetition  or  continuance  of  such  outrages 
upon  humanity.  ...  If  rny  pictures  are  displeasing,  coarse, 
and  severe,  my  subjects,  it  must  be  recollected,  offer  no 
tranquil,  refining,  or  composing  features.  The  condition  of 
human  beings  reduced  to  the  extremest  state  of  degradation 
and  misery  cannot  be  exhibited  in  softened  language,  or 
adorn  a  polished  page. 

"  I  proceed,  gentlemen,  briefly  to  call  your  attention  to 
the  present  state  of  insane  persons  confined  within  this 
Commonwealth,  in  cages,  closets,  cellars,  stalls,  pens ; 
chained,  naked,  beaten  with  rods,  and  lashed  into  obedi- 
ence !  " 


THE  DESCENT  INTO  INFERNO.       77 

Page  after  page,  the  Memorial  then  goes  on  to  recite 
the  details  of  a  long  catalogue  of  horrors.  They  do 
not  furnish  pleasing  reading,  but  if  the  life  work  of 
Miss  Dix  is  to  be  practically  written  out  and  duly  ap- 
preciated, it  is  necessary  to  brace  the  nerves  and  go 
through  with  some  of  them. 
• 

"  I  give  a  few  illustrations  [the  Memorial  then  proceeds] 
but  description  fades  before  reality." 

"  DANVERS.  November.  Visited  the  almshouse  ;  a  large 
building,  much  out  of  repair ;  understand  a  new  one  is  in 
contemplation.  Here  are  from  fifty-six  to  sixty  inmates  : 
one  idiotic ;  three  insane  ;  one  of  the  latter  in  close  confine- 
ment at  all  times. 

"  Long  before  reaching  the  house,  wild  shouts,  snatches  of 
rude  songs,  imprecations,  and  obscene  language,  fell  upon 
the  ear,  proceeding  from  the  occupant  of  a  low  building, 
rather  remote  from  the  principal  building,  to  which  my 
course  was  directed.  Found  the  mistress,  and  was  con- 
ducted to  the  place,  which  was  called  lthe  home'  of  the 
forlorn  maniac,  a  young  woman,  exhibiting  a  condition  of 
neglect  and  misery  blotting  out  the  faintest  idea  of  comfort, 
and  outraging  every  sentiment  of  decency.  She  had  been, 
I  learnt,  a  respectable  person,  industrious  and  worthy ; 
disappointments  and  trials  shook  her  mind,  and  finally  laid 
prostrate  reason  and  self-control ;  she  became  a  maniac  for 
life !  She  had  been  at  Worcester  Hospital  for  a  consider- 
able time,  arid  had  been  returned  as  incurable.  The  mis- 
tress told  me  she  understood  that,  while  there,  she  was 
comfortable  and  decent.  Alas  !  what  a  change  was  here  ex- 
hibited !  She  had  passed  from  one  degree  of  violence  and 
degradation  to  another,  in  swift  progress  ;  there  she  stood, 
clinging  to,  or  beating  upon,  the  bars  of  her  caged  apart- 
ment, the  contracted  size  of  which  afforded  space  only  for 
increasing  accumulations  of  filth,  —  afoul  spectacle;  there 
she  stood,  with  naked  arms  and  disheveled  hair;  the  un- 


78  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

washed  frame  invested  with  fragments  of  unclean  garments ; 
the  air  so  extremely  offensive,  though  ventilation  was  af- 
forded on  all  sides  save  one,  that  it  was  not  possible  to  re- 
main beyond  a  few  moments  without  retreating-  for  recovery 
to  the  outward  air.  Irritation  of  body,  produced  by  utter 
filth  and  exposure,  incited  her  to  the  horrid  process  of  tear- 
ing off  her  skin  by  inches ;  her  face,  neck,  and  person 
were  thus  disfigured  to  hideousness. 

"  Is  the  whole  story  told  ?  What  was  seen  is ;  what  is 
reported  is  not.  These  gross  exposures  are  not  for  the 
pained  sight  of  one  alone  ;  all,  all,  coarse,  brutal  men,  won- 
dering, neglected  children,  old  and  young,  each  and  all, 
witness  this  lowest,  foulest  state  of  miserable  humanity. 
And  who  protects  her,  that  worse  than  Pariah  outcast,  from 
other  wrongs  and  blacker  outrages  ? 

"  Some  may  say  these  things  cannot  be  remedied ;  these 
furious  maniacs  are  not  to  be  raised  from  these  base  condi- 
tions. I  know  they  are  ;  could  give  many  examples ;  let 
one  suffice.  A  young  woman,  a  pauper  in  a  distant  town, 
Sandisfield,  was  for  years  a  raging  maniac.  A  cage,  chains, 
and  the  whip  were  the  agents  for  controlling  her,  united 
with  harsh  tones  and  profane  language.  Annually,  with 
others  (the  town's  poor)  she  was  put  up  at  auction,  and  bid 
off  at  the  lowest  price  which  was  declared  for  her.  One 
year  not  long  past,  an  old  man  came  forward  in  the  number 
of  applicants  for  the  poor  wretch  ;  he  was  taunted  and  ridi- 
culed. What  would  he  and  his  old  wife  do  with  such  a  mere 
beast  ?  '  '  My  wife  says  yes,'  replied  he,  '  and  I  shall  take 
her.'  She  was  given  to  his  charge  ;  he  conveyed  her  home  ; 
she  was  washed,  neatly  dressed,  and  placed  in  a  decent  bed- 
room, furnished  for  comfort  and  opening  into  the  kitchen. 
How  altered  her  condition !  As  yet  the  chains  were  not 
off.  The 'first  week  she  was  somewhat  restless,  at  times 
violent,  but  the  quiet  ways  of  the  old  people  wrought  a 
change  :  she  received  her  food  decently ;  forsook  acts  of 
violence,  and  no  longer  uttered  blasphemous  or  indecent 
language.  After  a  week  the  chain  was  lengthened,  and  she 


THE  DESCENT  INTO  INFERNO.  79 

was  received  as  a  companion  into  the  kitchen.  Soon  she 
engaged  in  trivial  employments.  '  After  a  fortnight,'  said 
the  old  man,  '  I  knocked  off  the  chains  and  made  her  a 
free  woman.'  She  is  at  times  excited,  but  not  violently  ; 
they  are  careful  of  her  diet,  they  keep  her  very  clean  ;  she 
calls  them  father  and  mother.  Go  there  now,  and  you  will 
find  her  '  clothed,'  and  though  not  perfectly  in  her  *  right 
mind,'  so  far  restored  as  to  be  a  safe  and  comfortable  in- 
mate." 

"  GROTON.  A  few  rods  removed  from  the  poorhouse  is 
a  wooden  building  upon  the  roadside,  constructed  of  heavy 
board  and  plank.  .  .  .  There  is  no  window,  save  an  open- 
ing half  the  size  of  the  sash,  and  closed  by  a  board  shutter ; 
in  one  corner  is  some  brickwork  surrounding  an  iron  stove, 
which  in  cold  weather  serves  for  warming  the  room.  The 
occupant  of  this  dreary  abode  is  a  young  man,  who  has  been 
declared  incurably  insane.  He  can  move  a  measured  dis- 
tance in  his  prison  ;  that  is,  so  far  as  a  strong,  heavy  chain 
depending  from  an  iron  collar  which  invests  his  neck  per- 
mits. In  fine  weather,  —  and  it  was  pleasant  when  I  was 
there  in  June  last,  —  the  door  is  thrown  open,  at  once  giving 
admission  to  light  and  air,  and  affording  some  little  variety 
to  the  solitary,  in  watching  the  passers-by.  But  that  por- 
tion of  the  year  which  allows  of  open  doors  is  not  the  chief- 
est  part ;  and  it  may  be  conceived,  without  draughting  much 
on  the  imagination,  what  is  the  condition  of  one  who  for 
days  and  weeks  and  months  sits  in  darkness  and  alone, 
without  employment,  without  object." 

This  unhappy  being  in  Groton,  with  the  chain 
round  his  neck,  is  alluded  to  again  in  the  following 
conversation  between  Miss  Dix  and  the  keeper  of  the 
almshouse  in  Fitchburg  :  — 

"  Why  [she  there  asked,  speaking  of  a  poor  lunatic] 
cannot  you  take  this  man  abroad  to  work  on  the  farm  ? 
He  is  harmless  ;  air  and  exercise  will  help  to  recover  him." 
"  I  have  been  talking  with  our  overseers,  [was  the  answer] 


80  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

11  and  I  've  proposed  getting  from  the  blacksmith  an  iron 
collar  and  chain ;  then  I  can  have  him  out  by  the  house." 
"  An  iron  collar  and  chain  !  "  "  Yes.  I  had  a  cousin  up  in 
Vermont,  crazy  as  a  wildcat,  and  I  got  a  collar  made  for 
him,  and  he  liked  it."  "  Liked  it !  How  did  he  manifest 
his  pleasure  ?  "  "  Why,  he  left  off  trying  to  run  away.  I 
kept  the  almshouse  in  Groton.  There  was  a  man  there  from 
the  hospital.  I  built  an  outhouse  for  him,  and  the  black- 
smith made  him  an  iron  collar  and  chain,  so  we  had  him 
fast,  and  the  overseers  approved  it." 

"  SHELBURNK.  I  had  heard,  before  visiting  this  place,  of 
the  bad  condition  of  a  lunatic  pauper.  ...  I  desired  to  see 
him.  and,  after  some  difficulties  raised  and  set  aside,  was 
conducted  into  the  yard,  where  was  a  small  building  of 
rough  boards  imperfectly  joined.  All  was  still,  save  now 
and  then  a  low  groan.  The  person  who  conducted  me  tried, 
with  a  stick,  to  rouse  the  inmate  ;  I  entreated  her  to  desist ; 
the  twilight  of  the  place  making  it  difficult  to  discern  any- 
thing within  the  cage  ;  there  at  last  I  saw  a  human  being, 
partially  extended,  cast  upon  his  back  amidst  a  mass  of 
filth,  the  sole  furnishing,  whether  for  comfort  or  necessity, 
which  the  place  afforded ;  there  he  lay,  ghastly,  with  up- 
turned, glazed  eyes  and  fixed  gaze,  heavy  breathings,  in- 
terrupted only  by  faint  groans,  which  seemed  symptomatic 
of  an  approaching  termination  of  his  sufferings.  Not  so 
thought  the  mistress.  '  He  has  all  sorts  of  ways  ;  he  '11  soon 
rouse  up  and  be  noisy  enough  ;  he  '11  scream  and  beat  about 
the  place  like  any  wild  beast,  half  the  time.'  '  And  cannot 
you  make  him  more  comfortable  ?  Can  he  not  have  some 
clean,  dry  place  and  a  fire  ? '  'As  for  clean,  it  will  do  no 
good  ;  he  's  cleaned  out  now  and  then  ;  but  what 's  the  use 
for  such  a  creature  ?  His  own  brother  tried  him  once,  but 
got  sick  enough  of  the  bargain.'  *  But  a  fire  ;  there  is  space 
even  here  for  a  small  box  stove.'  *  If  he  had  a  fire  he  'd 
only  pull  off  his  clothes,  so  it 's  no  use.'  I  made  no  impres- 
sion ;  it  was  plain  that  to  keep  him  securely  confined  from 


THE  DESCENT  INTO  INFERNO.       81 

escape  was  the  chief  object.  '  How  do  you  give  him  his  food  ? 
I  see  no  means  of  introducing  anything  here/  '  Oh ! '  point- 
ing to  the  floor, '  one  of  the  bars  is  cut  shorter  there ;  we  push 
it  through  there.'  '  There  ?  Impossible !  you  cannot  do 
that ;  you  would  not  treat  your  lowest  dumb  animals  with 
that  disregard  to  decency  /  '  'As  for  what  he  eats  or  where 
he  eats,  it  makes  no  difference  to  him  ;  he  'd  as  soon  swal- 
low one  thing  as  another.'  " 

"  NEWTOX.  .  »  .  Opening  into  this  room  only  was  the 
second,  which  was  occupied  by  a  woman,  not  old,  and  furi- 
ously mad.  It  contained  a  wooden  bunk  filled  with  filthy 
straw,  the  room  itself  a  counterpart  to  the  lodging-place. 
Inexpressibly  disgusting  and  loathsome  was  all ;  but  the  in- 
mate herself  was  even  more  horribly  repelling.  She  rushed 
out,  as  far  as  the  chains  would  allow,  almost  in  a  state  of 
nudity,  exposed  to  a  dozen  persons,  and  vociferating  at  the 
top  of  her  voice  ;  pouring  forth  such  a  flood  of  indecent 
language  as  might  corrupt  even  Newgate.  I  entreated  the 
man,  who  was  still  there,  to  go  out  and  close  the  door.  He 
refused  ;  that  was  not  his  place  !  Sick,  horror-struck,  and 
almost  incapable  of  retreating,  I  gained  the  outward  air." 

"  Of  the  dangers  and  mischiefs  sometimes  following  the 
location  of  insane  persons  in  our  almshouses  I  will  record 
but  one  more  example.  In  Worcester  has  for  several  years 
resided  a  young  woman,  a  lunatic  pauper,  of  decent  life  and 
respectable  family.  I  have  seen  her  as  she  usually  ap- 
peared, listless  and  silent,  almost  or  quite  sunk  into  a  state 
of  dementia,  sitting  one  amidst  the  family,  'but  not  of 
them.'  A  few  weeks  since,  revisiting  that  almshouse,  judge 
my  horror  and  amazement  to  see  her  negligently  bearing  in 
her  arms  a  young  infant,  of  which  I  was  told  she  was  the 
unconscious  parent !  Who  was  the  father  none  could  or 
would  declare.  Disqualified  for  the  performance  of  mater- 
nal cares  and  duties,  regarding  the  helpless  little  creature 
with  a  perplexed  or  indifferent  gaze,  she  sat  a  silent,  but 
oh,  how  eloquent,  a  pleader  for  the  protection  of  others  of 
her  neglected  and  outraged  sex !  Details  of  that  black 


82  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

story  would  not  strengthen  the  cause ;  needs  it  a  weightier 
plea  than  the  sight  of  that  forlorn  creature  and  her  wailing 
infant  ?  Poor  little  child,  more  than  orphan  from  birth,  in 
this  unfriendly  world,  —  a  demented  mother,  a  father  on 
whom  the  sun  might  blush  or  refuse  to  shine !  " 

Such  are  brief  selections  from  some  of  the  extreme 
instances  of  misery  and  barbarity  to  which  Dorothea 
L.  Dix  now  called  public  attention  through  her  Me- 
morial to  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts.  Perhaps 
even  more  pitiful  was  the  situation  of  the  long  cata- 
logue of  those  whose  reason,  less  wholly  overthrown, 
left  them  (like  the  poor  young  woman  to  whom  Charles 
Sumner  so  pathetically  alludes)  more  sensible  of  their 
forlorn  condition.  The  Memorial  concluded  with  an 
impassioned  appeal  for  adequate  asylum  provision 
against  the  continuance  any  longer  of  so  foul  a  blot 
on  the  fair  fame  of  the  Commonwealth  :  — 

"  Men  of  Massachusetts,  I  beg,  I  implore,  I  demand,  pity 
and  protection  for  these  of  my  suffering,  outraged  sex. 
Fathers,  husbands,  brothers,  I  would  supplicate  you  for  this 
boon  —  but  what  do  I  say  ?  I  dishonor  you,  divest  you  at 
once  of  Christianity  and  humanity,  does  this  appeal  imply 
distrust.  .  .  .  Here  you  will  put  away  the  cold,  calculating 
spirit  of  selfishness  and  self-seeking,  lay  off  the  armor  of 
local  strife  and  political  opposition  ;  here  and  now,  for  once, 
forgetful  of  the  earthly  and  perishable,  come  up  to  these 
halls  and  consecrate  them  with  one  heart  and  one  mind  to 
works  of  righteousness  and  just  judgment.  .  .  .  Gentle- 
men, I  commit  to  you  this  sacred  cause.  Your  action  upon 
this  subject  will  affect  the  present  and  future  condition  of 
hundreds  and  thousands.  In  this  legislation,  as  in  all 
things,  may  you  exercise  that  wisdom  which  is  the  breath 
of  the  power  of  God.  Respectfully  submitted. 

"D.  L.  Dix. 

"85  MX.  VERNON  STREET,  BOSTON, 
"  January,  1843." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SUCCESS   OF  THE   FIRST   MEMORIAL. 

INEVITABLY  a  Memorial  such  as  that  now  described 
struck  and  exploded  like  a  bombshell.  It  was  carry- 
ing the  war  into  Africa.  It  was  the  arraignment  not 
of  a  local  evil  here  and  there,  but  of  the  state  of 
things  prevailing  more  or  less  in  every  township 
throughout  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts.  "  In- 

O 

credible !  incredible !  "  was  the  first  natural  outcry  of 
humane  people.  "  Sensational  and  slanderous  lies !  " 
was  the  swift  and  fiery  rejoinder  of  selectmen,  alms- 
house  keepers,  and  private  citizens  in  arms  for  the 
credit  of  their  towns.  Everywhere  the  newspapers 
bristled  with  angry  articles.  "  There  are  some,"  this 
was  the  tone  too  often  adopted,  "  and  Miss  Dix  may 
be  one  of  them,  who  are  always  on  tiptoe,  looking 
forward  for  something  more  marvelous  than  is  to 
be  discovered  in  real  life  ;  and  because  the  things 
themselves  will  not  come  up  to  this  pitch  of  the  im- 
agination, the  imagination  is  brought  down  to  them, 
and  has  a  world  of  its  own  creating." 

All  in  vain  had  the  memorialist  sought  to  make  it 
plain  that  it  was  a  system,  and  not  individuals,  she 
arraigned,  and  that  to  put  the  pauper  insane  under 
the  practically  uncontrolled  authority  of  ignorant  and 
passionate  persons,  not  only  destitute  of  due  know- 
ledge, but  destitute  of  any  fit  appliances  for  the  treat- 
ment of  the  most  terrible  of  human  visitations,  was 


84  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

the  straight  way  to  insure  a  hell  on  earth.  Carefully 
and  circumstantially  had  she  written  to  the  sheriffs 
all  over  the  State,  and  received  from  them  detailed 
replies  substantiating  her  position  that  nothing  better 
could  be  looked  for  from  such  a  system.  But  on 
those  more  immediately  arraigned  all  this  made  no  im- 
pression. Such  people  felt  themselves  pilloried  before 
the  public  gaze  as  fiends  in  human  shape,  and  natu- 
rally made  frantic  efforts  to  declare  the  statements  of 
the  Memorial  a  tissue  of  lies. 

"  Did  you  never  [says,  in  his  '  Autocrat  of  the  Break- 
fast-Table,' Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  in  words  so  pictu- 
resquely descriptive  of  the  situation  that  the  temptation  to 
quote  them  is  too  strong  to  resist],  did  you  never,  in  walk- 
ing in  the  fields,  come  across  a  large  flat  stone,  which  has 
lain,  nobody  knows  how  long,  just  where  you  found  it,  with 
the  grass  forming  a  little  hedge,  as  it  were,  all  round  it, 
close  to  its  edges,  —  and  have  you  not,  in  obedience  to  a 
kind  of  feeling  that  told  you  it  had  been  lying  there  long 
enough,  insinuated  your  stick  or  your  foot  or  your  fingers 
under  its  edge  and  turned  it  over,  as  a  housewife  turns  a 
cake  ?  .  .  .  What  an  odd  revelation,  and  what  an  unfore- 
seen and  unpleasant  surprise  to  a  small  community,  the 
very  existence  of  which  you  had  not  suspected,  until  the 
sudden  dismay  and  scattering  among  its  members  was  pro- 
duced by  your  turning  the  old  stone  over  !  Blades  of  grass 
flattened  down,  colorless,  matted  together,  as  if  they  had 
been  bleached  and  ironed  ;  hideous  crawling  creatures,  some 
of  them  coleopterous  or  horny-shelled ;  .  .  .  black,  glossy 
crickets,  with  their  long  filaments  sticking  out  like  the 
whips  of  four-horse  stage-coaches  ;  motionless  slug-like  crea- 
tures, young  larvae,  perhaps  more  horrible  in  their  pulpy 
stillness  than  even  in  the  infernal  wriggle  of  maturity  !  But 
no  sooner  is  the  stone  turned,  and  the  wholesome  light  of 
day  let  upon  this  compressed  and  blinded  community  of 


SUCCESS  OF  THE  FIRST  MEMORIAL.  85 

creeping  things,  than  all  of  them  which  enjoy  the  luxury  of 
legs  —  and  some  of  them  have  a  good  many  —  rush  round 
wildly,  butting  each  other  and  everything  in  their  way,  and 
end  in  a  general  stampede  for  underground  retreats  from 
the  region  poisoned  by  sunshine.  Next  year  you  will  find 
the  grass  growing  tall  and  green  where  the  stone  lay  ;  the 
ground-bird  builds  her  nest  where  the  beetle  had  his  hole  ; 
the  dandelion  and  the  buttercup  are  growing  there,  and  the 
broad  fans  of  insect-angels  open  and  shut  over  their  golden 
disks,  as  the  rhythmic  waves  of  blissful  consciousness  pulsate 
through  their  glorified  being." 

Very  soon,  however,  was  it  to  become  clear  to  intel- 
ligent men  and  women  that  they  were  now  called  upon 
to  deal  with  one  who  was  at  the  last  remove  from  a 
sensationalist ;  with  one,  on  the  contrary,  endowed 
not  merely  with  a  sensitive  heart,  but  with  a  states- 
manlike grasp  of  mind.  She  had  raised  no  wild, 
feminine  shriek  of  horror,  when  first  the  abyss  of  evil 
had  opened  up  before  her,  but  had  patiently  explored 
the  depths  of  the  inferno,  sternly  shutting  her  lips  till 
she  should  come  out  again  to  the  light  of  day,  to  re- 
port what  her  own  eyes  had  seen. 

Exception  might  be  taken  to  a  particular  shade  of 
statement  here  or  there,  but  to  the  main  truth  of  her 
arraignment  none.  Soon  there  rallied  to  her  side  a 
band  of  able  men,  of  whom  such  names  as  those  of 
Dr.  Samuel  G.  Howe,  Dr.  William  E.  Channing, 
Hon.  Horace  Mann,  Rev.  John  G.  Palfrey,  and  Dr. 
Luther  Y.  Bell,  of  the  McLean  Asylum,  proved  a 
tower  of  strength.  And  so  to  the  fierce  and  insulting 
comments  of  selectmen  or  almshouse  keepers,  as  of 
Groton  for  example,  she  needed  no  more  conclusive 
reply  than  the  quiet  publication  of  letters  like  the 
following  from  Dr.  Luther  V.  Bell,  a  man  who,  for 


86  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

humanity,  science,  and  sound  practical  judgment,  car- 
ried irresistible  weight :  — 

MCLEAN  ASYLUM,  February  15,  1843. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  Dix,  —  On  recurring  once  more  to  your 
Memorial,  for  which  I  pray  that  you  may  have  a  reward 
higher  than  the  applause  of  this  world,  I  thought  I  would 
make  you  a  short  statement  touching  a  case  of  a  young  man 
in  the  poorhouse  at  Groton,  referred  to  on  page  nineteen. 

Various  coincidences  led  me  to  suppose  this  individual 
to  be  one  James  Gilson,  such  as  the  fact  of  having  been  at 
"  the  hospital,"  the  peculiar  blacksmith  work  for  his  re- 
straint, etc. 

I  extract  a  part  of  the  history  of  his  case,  as  recorded  at 
the  time  by  my  assistant,  of  course  with  no  expectation  on 
his  part  of  its  being  seen  or  published  beyond  the  ordinary 
records  of  cases. 

"  1840,  December  15.  Mr.  James  Gilson,  Groton,  aged 
30,  single  ;  town  pauper.  About  nine  months  since,  whilst 
at  work  in  Lowell,  his  derangement  came  on,  and  soon 
after  he  was  sent  to  the  house  of  correction,  in  East  Cam- 
bridge ;  there  he  remained  till  last  June  (1840),  when  he 
was  removed  to  the  poorhouse  in  Groton,  and  confined  in 
the  following  revolting  manner :  A  band  of  iron,  an  inch 
wide,  went  round  his  neck,  with  a  chain  six  feet  long  at- 
tached. This  was  used  for  the  purpose  of  securing  him  to 
any  particular  place.  His  hands  were  restrained  by  means 
of  a  clavis  and  bolt  (of  iron),  appropriated  to  each  wrist, 
and  united  by  a  padlock.  In  this  bondage,  this  iron  cruel 
bondage,  talking  incoherently  to  be  sure,  but  without  any 
exhibition  of  violence,  was  he  brought  to  the  Asylum  in  the 
morning,  after  having  been  chained  up  the  night  before  in 
a  barn,  like  a  wild  animal,  to  spend  its  dreary  hours.  His 
shackles  were  immediately  knocked  off  in  the  presence  of 
his  keeper,  his  swollen  lirnbs  chafed  gently,  when  the  de- 
lighted maniac  exclaimed  '  My  good  man,  I  must  kiss  you,' 
etc." 


SUCCESS  OF  THE  FIRST  MEMORIAL.  87 

So  little  was  this  man  a  subject  for  personal  restraint  dur- 
ing his  residence  with  us  that  he  never  even  injured  his 
clothes,  ate  at  a  common  table  with  knives  and  forks  with  a 
dozen  others,  slept  in  a  common  bedroom,  and  was  consid- 
ered as  a  pleasant  patient  filled  with  delusions.  After  a 
short  interval,  curative  means  were  employed,  and,  as  we 
judged,  with  most  obvious  and  encouraging  advantage,  until 
on  the  23d  day  of  April,  that  is,  after  a  little  over  four 
months'  trial,  when  the  overseers  of  the  poor,  without  pre- 
vious notice,  sent  for  him,  while  under  the  most  energetic  use 
of  remedies  which  required  a  gradual  discontinuance.  My 
assistant's  record  closes  with  saying,  "  Reluctant  to  go,  for 
fear  they  will  again  chain  him." 

"  The  occupant  of  this  dreary  abode  is  a  young  man," 
you  observe  in  your  Memorial,  "  who  has  been  declared 
incurably  insane."  Alas  !  he  may  be  so  now  ;  two  years  of 
chaining,  doubtless,  has  extinguished  forever  his  hope  of 
recovery  ;  but  when  he  was  removed  from  this  place,  I  de- 
clare it  as  my  opinion  that  he  was  not  only  not  incurably 
insane,  but  was  on  the  path  to  recovery  ;  in  every  respect  a 
promising  case.  So  fully  was  I  impressed  with  this  that  I 
urged  the  messengers  to  return  till  I  could  advise  the  town 
of  his  prospects ;  but  this  was  declined. 

How  much  now,  my  dear  madam,  do  you  suppose  the 
charge  to  the  large  and  thriving  town  of  Groton  was  for  this 
poor  man  under  the  care  of  this  department  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts General  Hospital  ?  Precisely  three  dollars  a  week 
for  every  expense  of  support,  care,  and  comfort ;  perhaps  a 
third  or  a  half  more  than  his  present  cost. 

Very  truly  yours,  LUTHER  V.  BELL. 

Equally  encouraging  letters  from  other  prominent 
men  now  came  to  Miss  Dix.  "  I  have  felt,"  wrote 
Horace  Mann,  "  in  reading  your  Memorial,  as  I  used 
to  feel  when  formerly  I  endeavored  to  do  something 
for  the  welfare  of  the  same  class,  —  as  though  all 


88  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

personal  enjoyments  were  criminal  until  they  were 
relieved."  Dr.  Channing,  who  had  printed  an  elo- 
quent notice  of  her  Memorial  in  the  "  Christian 
World,"  wrote  her  of  this  notice:  "I  only  wish  it 
were  more  worthy.  Such  as  it  is  I  give  it  to  you  with 
my  best  thanks  for  your  great  work  of  humanity." 
Lucius  Manlius  Sargent  sent  word :  "I  trust  you  will 
not  suffer  a  moment's  disquietude  from  the  considera- 
tion that  there  is  a  morbid  sensibility  abroad  which 
may  question  the  propriety  of  such  an  investigation 
by  one  of  your  sex." 

At  the  present  day  of  such  pronounced  ideas  on 
the  whole  issue  of  woman's  sphere  and  woman's 
work,  such  a  letter  as  this  last  would  only  provoke  a 
humorous  smile.  It  is  questionable,  however,  whether 
many  of  Miss  Dix's  letters  gave  her  more  real  satis- 
faction. Lucius  Manlius  Sargent  was  himself  a  very 
knightly  specimen  of  a  man,  and  one  whose  chivalrous 
salute  any  woman  would  have  taken  pride  in ;  while 
Miss  Dix's  own  ideas  of  feminine  propriety,  rooted 
and  grounded  in  a  select  young  ladies'  boarding- 
school,  were  of  an  exacting  and  old-fashioned  order. 
No  doubt  she  read  the  letter  over  several  times,  and 
rejoiced  that  in  the  eyes  of  so  courtly  a  gentleman  she 
had  not  "  unsexed  "  herself  in  venturing  to  plead  for 
her  poor  unsexed  sisters. 

Very  shortly  after  its  first  presentation  to  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Legislature,  the  Memorial  was  referred  to  a 
committee,  of  which  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe  was  appointed 
chairman.  The  committee  made  a  report  at  once 
strongly  indorsing  the  truth  of  Miss  Dix's  statements, 
and  fortifying  them  with  other  instances  of  like  out- 
rages on  humanity,  the  report  closing  with  an  eloquent 
appeal  for  immediate  legislative  action.  The  entire 


SUCCESS   OF  THE  FIRST  MEMORIAL.          89 

provision  for  the  insane  in  the  State  —  in  the  State 
Hospital  at  Worcester,  in  the  McLean  Asylum,  and 
in  the  hospital  at  South  Boston  —  was,  it  was  asserted, 
not  adequate  to  the  care  of  quite  500  patients,  while 
there  were  in  the  Commonwealth  958  pauper  insane 
and  idiotic  persons,  to  say  nothing*  of  about  800  at 
private  charge.  A  resolution  was  introduced,  recom- 
mending "that  the  Trustees  of  the  State  Lunatic 
Hospital  at  Worcester  shall  erect  additional  buildings, 
adjoining  or  near  the  existing  buildings  of  said  hos- 
pital, sufficiently  large  for  the  addition  of  200  insane 
patients  more." 

A  capital  piece  of  good  fortune  was  it  that  at  this 
juncture  a  man  of  the  courage  and  indomitable 
humanity  of  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe  should  have  been  in 
the  Legislature,  ready  and  eager  to  engineer  the  bill 
through.  All  along  had  he  stood  by  Miss  Dix,  and 
encouraged  her  efforts.  Now,  as  the  debate  went  on, 
he  continually  sent  her  short,  stimulating  letters. 

"  I  presented  [he  says  in  one  of  these]  your  Memorial  this 
morning,  indorsing  it  both  as  a  memorial  and  a  petition. 
Your  work  is  nobly  done,  but  not  yet  ended.  I  want  you 
to  select  some  newspaper  as  your  cannon,  from  which  you 
will  discharge  often  red-hot  shot  into  the  very  hearts  of  the 
people ;  so  that,  kindling,  they  shall  warm  up  the  clams  and 
oysters  of  the  house  to  deeds  of  charity.  When  I  look  back 
upon  the  time  when  you  stood  hesitating  and  doubting  upon 
the  brink  of  the  enterprise  you  have  so  bravely  and  nobly 
accomplished,  I  cannot  but  be  impressed  with  the  lesson  of 
courage  and  hope  which  you  have  taught  even  to  the  strong- 
est men.  .  .  .  You  are  pleased  to  overrate  the  importance 
of  my  efforts.  I  can  only  reply  that  if  I  touch  off  the  piece, 
it  will  be  you  who  furnish  the  ammunition." 

A  little  later  on,  as  the  inevitable  delays  to  any 


90  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

work  of  reform  presented  themselves,  Dr.  Howe  wrote 
less  hopefully :  — 

"  I  do  not  like  to  indulge  in  feelings  of  distrust,  but  have 
been  irritated  by  the  cold,  pecuniary  policy  of  these  men. 
A  friend  overheard  one  of  those  very  men  who  talked  so 
pathetically  to  you,  say,  *  We  must  find  some  way  to  kill 
this  devil  of  a  hospital  bill ! '  Speaking  about  these  traitors, 
another  friend,  and  one  versed  in  the  wiles  of  politicians, 
said  to  me,  '  Doctor,  never  mind  :  there  is  a  hell ;  these 
fellows  will  find  it.'  But  God  soften  their  hearts,  and  en- 
able them  to  realize  the  sad  condition  of  the  insane,  and 
turn  and  do  otherwise." 

Happily,  the  feeling  of  discouragement  expressed 
in  this  last  letter  proved  needless.  So  profound  had 
been  the  sensation  throughout  the  Commonwealth 
awakened  by  the  frightful  details  and  impassioned  elo- 
quence of  the  Memorial  that  the  obstructions  and  de- 
lays of  politicians  were  swept  away  before  a  steadily 
rising  tide  of  public  indignation.  The  bill  for  imme- 
diate relief  was  carried  by  a  large  majority,  and  the 
order  passed  for  providing  State  accommodations  at 
Worcester  for  two  hundred  additional  insane  persons. 
At  once  Dr.  John  G.  Palfrey  wrote  congratulatingly  to 
the  happy  woman,  adding,  "  I  did  not  tell  you,  what 
you  will  have  understood,  that  Dr.  Howe  managed 
the  business  admirably,  —  to  say  like  an  old  stager 
would  be  doing  him  injustice,  —  like  a  man  of  human- 
ity, energy,  and  abundant  resources,  as  he  is." 

Thus  was  ventured  and  won  Miss  Dix's  first  legis- 
lative victory,  the  precursor  of  such  numbers  to  follow 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  United  States 
that  their  repetition  year  by  year,  the  enormous  sums  of 
money  they  involved,  the  magnitude  of  the  structures 
they  led  to  the  building  of,  the  range  of  the  field  they 


SUCCESS  OF   THE  FIRST  MEMORIAL.          91 

opened  out  to  advancing  medical  science,  and  the  vast 
numbers  of  poor  wretches  transferred  from  stalls  and 
chains  to  a  comparative  heaven  of  asylum  comfort, 
fairly  startle  the  imagination.  It  was  a  legislative  vic- 
tory which  illustrated  the  peculiar  characteristics  of 
her  mind.  Two  years,  as  has  been  seen,  of  patient, 
concentrated  work  had  preceded  any  word  of  appeal 
to  the  public.  In  these  two  years  she  had  gained  the 
training  of  accurate  observation  and  indomitable  will 
so  indispensable  to  any  one  who  will  probe  to  the 
bottom  great  evils,  and  then  resolutely  steer  the  way 
through  the  obstruction,  deceit,  and  wrath,  always 
aroused  by  insistence  on  radical  reform.  Sternly  re- 
pressing the  native  intensity  of  an  emotional  nature, 
instinctively  on  fire  at  the  sight  of  wrong  and  cruelty, 
she  had  acquired  at  last  a  dignity  and  repose  of 
manner  that  carried  with  them  the  peculiar  power 
always  exercised  by  restrained  emotion.  Jailer  or 
almshouse-keeper,  no  man,  however  cunning  or  how- 
ever brutal,  could  henceforth  think  to  wave  her  aside 
or  refuse  her  entrance.  Something  formidable  was 
there  now  about  her,  to  which  inferior  natures  irre- 
sistibly submitted ;  but  the  presence  as  of  a  higher 
power  thus  manifested  came  "  not  in  the  wind,  nor  in 
the  earthquake,  nor  in  the  fire,  but  in  a  still,  small 
voice." 

Indeed,  to  this  day,  the  oldest  living  friends  of  Miss 
Dix  never  weary  of  speaking  of  the  wonderful  quality 
of  her  voice.  It  was  sweet,  rich,  and  low,  perfect  in 
enunciation,  and  its  every  tone  pervaded  with  blended 
love  and  power.  Quiet  but  always  tasteful  in  the  style 
of  her  dress,  her  rich,  wavy,  dark  brown  hair  brought 
down  over  the  cheek  and  carried  back  behind  the 
ears,  her  face  lit  with  alternately  soft  and  brilliant 


92  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.   DIX. 

blue  gray  eyes,  their  pupils  so  large  and  dilating  as 
to  cause  them  often  to  be  taken  for  black,  a  bright, 
almost  hectic  glow  of  color  on  her  cheeks,  with  her 
shapely  head  set  on  a  neck  so  long,  flexile,  and  grace- 
ful as  to  impart  an  air  of  distinction  to  her  carriage, 
—  all  the  accounts  which  have  come  down  from  this 
period  of  her  career  call  up  a  personality  preeminently 
fitted  to  sway  those  brought  into  contact  with  her  in 
her  higher  moods  of  inspiration. 

Apart,  moreover,  from  this  training  in  self-control 
and  power  to  set  aside  alike  wile  or  violence  in  the 
attempt  to  block  her  way,  Miss  Dix  had  learned  an- 
other lesson  through  this  her  first  experience  in  dealing 
with  a  legislative  body.  It  was  the  lesson  of  concen- 
trating effort  on  the  work  of  leading  the  leaders. 
Personally,  she  never  cared  to  appear  in  public.  It 
was  thoroughly  distasteful  to  her  to  do  so.  She  made 
no  addresses,  she  gathered  no  meetings.  To  come 
to  close  quarters  of  eye,  conscience,  and  heart  with 
impressionable  and  influential  minds,  to  deliver  her 
burden  as  from  the  Lord  to  them,  and  let  it  work  on 
their  sensibility  and  reason,  —  this  was  her  invaria- 
ble method.  Dr.  Howe  had  hit  the  centre  when  he 
said,  "  If  I  touch  off  the  piece,  it  will  be  you  who 
furnish  the  ammunition."  For  the  public  eclat  of  the 
explosion  she  cared  little ;  for  the  quality  and  quan- 
tity of  the  gunpowder  and  the  penetrating  power  of 
the  ball,  everything.  Practical  relief  brought  to  the 
outcast  and  miserable,  the  enlisting  in  their  behalf 
every  possible  order  of  ability,  philanthropic,  political, 
judicial,  religious,  — this  was  her  grand  object. 

One  farther  lesson,  however,  the  greatest  and  most 
far-reaching  of  all,  had  Miss  Dix  learned  from  her  ex- 
perience in  Massachusetts.  While  there  pursuing  her 


SUCCESS   OF  THE  FIRST  MEMORIAL.          93 

investigations,  she  had  again  and  again  crossed  the 
border  into  other  States,  notably  into  Connecticut  and 
Khode  Island.  The  conviction  thus  steadily  and  irresis- 
tibly forced  on  her  was  that  all  over  the  United  /States, 
from  Maine  to  Florida,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Mis- 
sissippi, the  same  appalling  story  held  true  of  the 
wretched  fate  of  the  pauper  insane.  Everywhere,  "  in- 
sane persons  confined  in  cages,  closets,  cellars,  stalls, 
pens  ;  chained,  naked,  beaten  with  rods,  and  lashed 
into  obedience ! "  The  piteous  words  of  her  own  Me- 
morial came  back  to  her,  echoed  and  reechoed  from 
every  side.  But,  God  be  praised,  not  to  depress  or 
daunt  her,  not  to  make  her  cry  in  despair,  "  What,  in 
the  way  of  relief,  is  one  little  drop  in  such  an  ocean  of 
misery  ?  "  No,  but  only  to  challenge  the  heroic  temper 
of  her  mind,  and  start  the  thrilling  thought,  "  If  one 
legislature  can  thus  be  besieged  and  carried  by  storm, 
why  not  another,  and  another,  and  another !  " 

Now  first  broke  upon  her  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  mission  to  which  she  felt  herself  divinely 
called.  Resolutely  and  untiringly,  State  by  State, 
would  she  take  up  the  work ;  first  exhaustively  accu- 
mulating the  facts  and  "  preparing  the  ammunition," 
and  then  investing  and  besieging  the  various  legisla- 
tures, till  they  should  capitulate  to  the  cry  of  the  per- 
ishing within  their  borders.  In  deliberately  planning, 
as  she  did  thus  early  in  her  career,  so  vast  a  cam- 
paign, was  revealed  the  greatness  and  compass  of  her 
mind.  The  splendors  and  audacities  of  moral  genius 
now  flashed  out  in  her.  Far  more  than  simply  a  good 
and  merciful  woman  was  here.  Here  was  a  woman 
with  the  grasp  of  intellect,  the  fertility  of  resources, 
and  the  indomitable  force  of  will  that  go  to  the  make-up 
of  a  great  statesman  or  a  great  military  commander. 


CHAPTER  X. 

RHODE   ISLAND   NEXT. 

IT  was  during  the  two  years,  1841-43,  in  which 
Miss  Dix  was  diligently  pursuing  her  investigations 
in  Massachusetts,  that  her  leisure  time  was  first  sys- 
tematically devoted  to  the  study  of  the  most  advanced 
methods  in  the  humane  and  scientific  treatment  of  in- 
sanity. Dr.  Woodward  of  the  Worcester  Asylum, 
Dr.  Luther  V.  Bell  of  the  McLean,  and  Dr.  John  S. 
Butler  of  the  newly  erected  Lunatic  Hospital  of  Bos- 
ton were  her  chief  teachers.  With  Dr.  Butler,  in  es- 
pecial, she  was  brought  into  very  intimate  relations. 
Himself  a  man  of  great  natural  benevolence,  he  had, 
in  1833,  when  beginning  the  practice  of  medicine  in 
Worcester,  come  in  contact  with  that  remarkable  pio- 
neer in  the  American  history  of  insanity,  Dr.  Wood- 
ward, and  witnessed  at  his  hands  what  seemed  to  him 
such  miraculous  triumphs  in  the  restoration  to  sanity 
of  violent  madmen  as  to  feel  that  a  new  and  brighter 
day  was  dawning  on  the  world.  "  Doctor,  if  Llewel- 
lyn can  be  cured,"  he  said  of  a  seemingly  desperate 
case  brought  under  his  observation,  and  which  later 
on  was  cured,  "  it  will  be  next  to  a  revelation  in  medi- 
cine to  me ! " 

The  strong  attraction  always  exerted  over  original 
and  experimental  minds  by  demonstrations  of  a  new, 
positive  force  to  deal  with,  now  took  such  hold  on  Dr. 
Butler  as  to  convince  him  that  this  was  the  true  field 


ERODE  ISLAND  NEXT.  95 

for  him  to  enter.  Appointed,  in  1839,  superinten- 
dent of  the  Lunatic  Hospital  of  Boston,  he  very  soon 
brought  to  bear  such  tact  and  skill,  such  courage  and 
patience,  such  power  of  sympathy  and  personal  mag- 
netism, as  to  work  changes  in  the  condition  of  his 
patients  as  marked  as  those  wrought  by  Pinel,  Tuke, 
and  Conolly. 

Speaking  of  this  institution  in  1842,  the  "  North 
American  Review  "  says,  in  an  article  on  Insanity  in 
Massachusetts :  — 

"  Its  patients  are  wholly  of  the  pauper  class.  Its  inmates 
are  of  the  worst  and  most  hopeless  class  of  cases.  They  are 
the  raving  madman  and  the  gibbering  idiot,  whom,  in  the 
language  of  the  inspectors  of  prisons,  hospitals,  etc.,  for  Suf- 
folk County,  we  had  formerly  seen  tearing  their  clothes 
amid  cold,  lacerating  their  bodies,  contracting  most  filthy 
habits,  without  self-control,  unable  to  restrain  the  worst 
feelings,  endeavoring  to  injure  those  that  approached  them, 
giving  vent  to  their  irritation  in  the  most  passionate,  pro- 
fane, and  filthy  language,  fearing  and  feared,  hating  and 
almost  hated.  Now  they  are  all  neatly  clad  by  day,  and 
comfortably  lodged  in  separate  rooms  by  night.  They  walk 
quietly,  with  self-respect,  along  their  spacious  and  airy  halls, 
or  sit  in  listening  groups  around  the  daily  paper,  or  dig  in 
the  garden,  or  handle  edged  tools,  or  stroll  around  the 
neighborhood  with  kind  and  careful  attendants.  They  at- 
tend daily  and  reverently  upon  religious  exercises,  and  make 
glad  music  with  their  united  voices." 

Eminently  fortunate,  then,  was  it  for  Miss  Dix  that 
she  was  thus  enabled  to  become  the  pupil  of  Dr.  But- 
ler, and  to  witness  with  her  own  eyes  the  actual  trans- 
formation of  the  raging  madhouse  of  the  past  into 
the  humane  retreat  of  the  present,  —  a  transformation 
which  is  unquestionably  the  most  marvelous  triumph 
ever  won  by  the  moral  reason  of  man  over  brute 


96  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

chaos.  "  Look  on  this  picture  and  on  this !  "  thus 
became  the  more  than  Hamlet  cry  of  her  heart. 

Already  has  it  been  stated  that,  while  engaged  in 
her  special  investigations  in  Massachusetts,  Miss  Dix 
had  frequently  crossed  the  border  into  other  States. 
In  Rhode  Island  had  she  struck  upon  scenes  of  misery 
to  which  she  made  haste  to  call  the  attention  of  be- 
nevolent minds.  Prominent  among  these  friends  of 
humanity  was  Thomas  G.  Hazard,  who  wrote  at  this 
time  to  a  friend :  — 

"  In  the  course  of  her  investigations  she  has  ferreted  out 
some  cases  of  human  suffering  almost  beyond  conception  or 
belief.  —  one  case  in  a  neighboring  town  to  this,  of  which  I 
was  yesterday  an  eye-witness,  —  which  went  beyond  any- 
thing I  supposed  to  exist  in  the  civilized  world,  and  which, 
without  exaggeration,  I  believe  was  seldom  equaled  in  the 
dark  ages,  the  particulars  of  which  she  will  describe  to 
you." 

The  case  to  which  Thomas  G.  Hazard  alluded  was 
that  of  Abram  Simmons,  confined  in  a  dungeon  in 
Little  Compton,  R.  I.  To  it  Miss  Dix  later  called 
public  attention,  in  the  "  Providence  Journal "  of 
April  10,  1844,  in  an  article  entitled  "  Astonishing 
Tenacity  of  Life."  The  article  illustrates  the  inten- 
sity of  feeling  and  the  vigor  of  style  characteristic  of 
her  efforts  at  this  period  to  shake  the  apathy  of  the 
public  mind.  It  is  not  written  over  her  own  signa- 
ture. When  possible,  she  always  preferred  to  keep 
herself  in  the  background,  and  to  refer  to  the  testi- 
mony of  others,  —  in  this  instance  to  that  of  Thomas 
G.  Hazard. 

"ASTONISHING  TENACITY  OF  LIFE. 

"  It  is  said  that  grains  of  wheat,  taken  from  within  the 
envelope  of  Egyptian  mummies  some  thousand  of  years  old, 


RHODE  ISLAND  NEXT.  97 

have  been  found  to  germinate  and  grow  in  a  number  of  in- 
stances. Even  toads  and  other  reptiles  have  been  found 
alive  in  situations  where  it  is  evident  that  they  must  have 
been  encased  for  many  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  of  years. 

"  It  may,  however,  be  doubted  whether  any  instance  has 
ever  occurred  in  the  history  of  the  race  where  the  vital 
principle  has  adhered  so  tenaciously  to  the  human  body  un- 
der such  a  load  and  complication  of  sufferings  and  tortures 
as  in  the  case  of  Abram  Simmons,  an  insane  man,  who  has 
been  confined  for  several  years  in  a  dungeon  in  the  town  of 
Little  Compton,  in  this  State. 

"  The  writer  accidentally  met  a  gentleman  this  morning 
from  that  town,  who  recounted  the  following  facts,  with 
leave  to  publish  them,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they 
are  correct. 

**  He  stated  that  he^  visited  the  cell  of  Abram  Simmons 
during  the  past  winter.  His  prison  was  from  six  to  eight 
feet  square,  built  entirely  of  stone,  —  sides,  roof,  and 
floor,  —  and  entered  through  two  iron  doors,  excluding  both 
light  and  fresh  air,  and  entirely  without  accommodation  of 
any  description  for  warming  and  ventilating.  At  that  time 
the  internal  surface  of  the  walls  was  covered  with  a  thick 
frost,  adhering  to  the  stone  in  some  places  to  the  thickness 
of  half  an  inch,  as  ascertained  by  actual  measurement. 
The  only  bed  was  a  small  sacking  stuffed  with  straw,  lying 
on  a  narrow  iron  bedstead,  with  two  comfortables  for  a 
cover.  The  bed  itself  was  wet,  and  the  outside  comfortable 
was  completely  saturated  with  the  drippings  from  the  walls, 
and  stiffly  frozen.  Thus,  in  utter  darkness,  encased  on 
every  side  by  walls  of  frost,  his  garments  constantly  more 
or  less  wet,  with  only  wet  straw  to  lie  upon,  and  a  sheet  of 
ice  for  his  covering,  has  this  most  dreadfully  abused  man 
existed  through  the  past  inclement  winter.  .  .  .  His  teeth 
must  have  been  worn  out  by  constant  and  violent  chattering 
for  such  a  length  of  time,  night  and  day, 

«"  Poor  Tom 'Ba-cold!' 


98  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"  Should  any  persons  in  this  philanthropic  age  be  disposed, 
from  motives  of  curiosity,  to  visit  the  place,  they  may  rest 
assured  that  traveling  is  considered  quite  safe  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  however  improbable  it  may  seem.  The 
people  of  that  region  profess  the  Christian  religion,  and  it  is 
even  said  that  they  have  adopted  some  forms  and  ceremonies 
which  they  call  worship.  It  is  not  probable,  however,  that 
they  address  themselves  to  poor  Simmons'  God.  Their 
worship,  mingling  with  the  prayers  of  agony  which  he 
shrieks  forth  from  his  dreary  abode,  would  make  strange 
discord  in  the  ear  of  that  Almighty  Being,  in  whose  keeping 
sleeps  the  vengeance  due  to  all  his  wrongs." 

Later  on,  in  a  public  document  of  her  own,  Miss 
Dix  gives  the  narrative  of  her  first  visit  to  Little 
Compton.  As  it  throws  farther  light  alike  on  the 
courageous  mercy  with  which  she  went  about  her 
work,  and  on  the  character  of  the  persons  in  whose 
charge  such  poor  wretches  were  placed,  it  seems  need- 
ful to  give  it.  After  investigating  carefully  the  con- 
dition of  two  or  three  miserable  beings  confined  there, 
and  being  warned  not  to  attempt  to  go  into  the  cell  of 
Simmons,  as  he  would  surely  kill  her,  she  proceeds  as 
follows  with  her  narrative :  — 

"  '  Your  other  patient,  —  where  is  he  ? '  *  You  shall  see  ; 
but  stay  outside  till  I  get  a  lantern.'  Accustomed  to  explor- 
ing cells  and  dungeons  in  the  basements  and  cellars  of  poor- 
houses  and  prisons,  I  concluded  that  the  insane  man  spoken 
of  was  confined  in  some  such  dark,  damp  retreat.  Weary 
and  oppressed,  I  leaned  against  an  iron  door  which  closed 
the  sole  entrance  to  a  singular  stone  structure,  much  resem- 
bling a  tomb,  yet  its  use  in  the  courtyard  of  the  poorhouse 
was  not  apparent.  Soon,  low,  smothered  groans  and  moans 
reached  me,  as  if  from  the  buried  alive.  At  this  moment 
the  mistress  advanced,  with  keys  and  a  lantern.  '  He  's 
here,'  said  she,  unlocking  the  strong,  solid  iron  door.  A 


RHODE  ISLAND  NEXT.  99 

step  down,  and  short  turn  through  a  narrow  passage  to  the 
right,  brought  us,  after  a  few  steps,  to  a  second  iron  door 
parallel  to  the  first,  and  equally  solid.  In  like  manner,  this 
was  unlocked  and  opened ;  but  so  terribly  noxious  was  the 
poisonous  air  that  immediately  pervaded  the  passage,  that 
a  considerable  time  elapsed  before  I  was  able  to  return  and 
remain  long  enough  to  investigate  this  horrible  den.  Lan- 
guage is  too  weak  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  scene  presented. 
The  candle  was  remote  from  the  scene,  and  the  flickering 
rays  partly  illuminated  a  spectacle  never  to  be  forgotten. 
The  place,  when  closed,  had  no  source  of  light  or  of  ventila- 
tion. It  was  about  seven  feet  by  seven,  and  six  and  a  half 
high.  All,  even  the  roof,  was  of  stone.  An  iron  frame 
interlaced  with  rope,  was  the  sole  furniture.  The  place 
was  filthy,  damp,  and  noisome ;  and  the  inmate,  the  crazy 
man,  the  helpless  and  dependent  creature,  cast  by  the  will 
of  Providence  on  the  cares  and  sympathies  of  his  fellow- 
man,  —  there  he  stood,  near  the  door,  motionless  and  silent ; 
his  tangled  hair  fell  about  his  shoulders ;  his  bare  feet 
pressed  the  filthy,  wet  stone  floor ;  he  was  emaciated  to  a 
shadow,  etiolated,  and  more  resembled  a  disinterred  corpse 
than  any  living  creature.  Never  have  I  looked  upon  an 
object  so  pitiable,  so  woe-struck,  so  imaging  despair.  I 
took  his  hands  and  endeavored  to  warm  them  by  gentle  fric- 
tion. I  spoke  to  him  of  release,  of  liberty,  of  care  and 
kindness.  Notwithstanding  the  assertions  of  the  mistress 
that  he  would  kill  me,  I  persevered.  A  tear  stole  over  the 
hollow  cheek,  but  no  words  answered  to  my  importunities ; 
no  other  movement  indicated  consciousness  of  perception  or 
of  sensibility.  In  moving  a  little  forward  I  struck  against 
something  which  returned  a  sharp  metallic  sound  ;  it  was  a 
length  of  ox-chain,  connected  to  an  iron  ring  which  encircled 
a  leg  of  the  insane  man.  At  one  extremity  it  was  joined  to 
what  is  termed  a  solid  chain,  —  namely,  bars  of  iron  eighteen 
inches  or  two  feet  long,  linked  together,  and  at  one  end 
connected  by  a  staple  to  the  rock  overhead.  '  My  husband,' 
said  the  mistress,  '  in  winter  rakes  out  sometimes,  of  a  morn- 


100  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

ing,  half  a  bushel  of  frost,  and  yet  he  never  freezes  ; '  refer- 
ring to  the  oppressed  and  life-stricken  maniac  before  us. 
1  Sometimes  he  screams  dreadfully,'  she  added,  '  and  that  is 
the  reason  we  had  the  double  wall,  and  two  doors  in  place 
of  one  ;  his  cries  disturbed  us  in  the  house.'  '  How  long 
has  he  been  here  ?  '  '  Oh,  above  three  years  ;  but  then  he 
was  kept  a  long  while  in  a  cage  first ;  but  once  he  broke  his 
chains  and  the  bars,  and  escaped  ;  so  we  had  this  built, 
where  he  can't  get  off.'  Get  off !  No,  indeed ;  as  \vell 
might  the  buried  dead  break  through  the  sealed  gates  of  the 
tomb !  " 

What  was  the  first  practicable  step  toward  provid- 
ing fit  accommodation  and  care  for  the  miserable 
creatures  she  had  found  all  over  the  State  of  Rhode 
Island  ?  There  already  existed  a  small  asylum  in  the 
city  of  Providence,  conducted  on  wise  and  humane 
principles.  But  it  was  totally  inadequate  to  the  de- 
mands made  on  it.  Still  it  furnished  a  good  founda- 
tion, and  an  appeal  to  the  wealthy  and  humane  for 
means  toward  its  immediate  enlargement  seemed  the 
wisest  present  course. 

In  this  juncture  was  it  that  the  extraordinary  power 
of  Miss  Dix  to  reach  the  heart  and  purse  of  those 
whom  every  one  else  failed  to  move  showed  its  first 
proof.  Among  the  list  of  persons  to  whom  she  had 
resolved  to  make  appeal  was  Mr.  Cyrus  Butler,  a 
man  of  large  business  capacity,  who  ultimately  left 
an  estate  of  $4,000,000,  but  who,  like  so  many  men 
absorbed  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  had  contracted  a 
passion  for  accumulation  that  rendered  it  well-nigh 
impossible  to  persuade  him  to  give  a  dollar  away. 
People  smiled  significantly  when  Miss  Dix  announced 
her  intention  of  calling  upon  him,  and  expressed  the 
usual  sentiment  about  getting  "  milk  out  of  a  stone." 


RHODE  ISLAND  NEXT.  101 

"  But  none  of  these  things  moved  her."  Her  faith  in 
human  nature,  if  only  strongly  and  wisely  enough  ap- 
pealed to,  was  invincible. 

Accompanied,  therefore,  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Butler 
by  Rev.  Edward  B.  Hall,  D.  D.,  of  Providence,  who 
left  her  at  the  door,  she  made  the  momentous  visit. 
It  was  a  singular  interview.  For  some  time,  through 
sheer  force  of  lifelong  habit,  Mr.  Butler  sought  to 
put  her  off  by  diverting  the  conversation  to  the  famil- 
iar but  rather  unprofitable  topic  of  the  weather.  So 
great  is  the  variety  of  weather  in  Rhode  Island,  as 
well  as  in  her  sister  State  of  Massachusetts,  that  whole 
days  might  thus  have  been  spent  without  exhausting 
the  subject.  Preserving  her  temper  and  self-control, 
Miss  Dix  pleasantly  adjusted  herself  to  the  humor  of 
the  scene,  until  finally,  feeling  that  the  thing  had  gone 
far  enough,  she  rose  with  commanding  dignity,  and 
said :  "  Mr.  Butler,  I  wish  you  to  hear  what  I  have  to 
say.  I  want  to  bring  before  you  certain  facts,  in- 
volving terrible  suffering  to  your  fellow-creatures  all 
around  you  —  suffering  you  can  relieve.  My  duty 
will  end  when  I  have  done  this,  and  with  you  will 
then  rest  all  further  responsibility."  Then,  quietly, 
clearly,  and  with  suppressed  emotion,  she  told  the 
pathetic  story  of  what  she  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes. 
She  told  it  as  though,  there  in  that  parlor,  were 
standing  for  judgment  two  accountable  beings  before 
the  tribunal  of  poor  Simmons'  avenging  God.  Mr. 
Butler  listened  spellbound  till  she  was  through,  and 
then  abruptly  said,  "Miss  Dix,  what  do  you  want 
me  to  do?"  "Sir,  I  want  you  to  give  150,000  toward 
the  enlargement  of  the  insane  hospital  in  this  city !  " 
"  Madam,  I  '11  do  it !  "  was  his  answer. 

While  a  signal  spiritual  triumph  to  Miss  Dix,  such 


102  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

an  interview  reflects  honor  on  both  parties.  Under- 
neath the  hard  crust  induced  by  a  life  of  ceaseless 
addiction  to  accumulation,  it  showed  the  beating  of  a 
genuine  human  heart,  prompt  to  respond  to  the  plead- 
ing of  such  an  angel  of  mercy.  The  parting  with 
$50,000  by  a  purely  business  man,  to  whom  it  might 
mean  a  prospective  million,  involves  a  mental  wrench 
of  which  few  can  appreciate  the  intensity.  Probably 
there  was  not  another  woman  in  the  land  who  could 
have  commanded  such  combined  power  of  cogent 
statement  and  impassioned  fervor  as  thus,  in  an  hour, 
to  reverse  all  the  deeply  rooted  habit  of  a  lifetime. 
The  feat  attracted  great  attention  at  the  time  in 
Providence,  and  afterwards  gave  rise  to  many  exag- 
gerated stories  which  went  the  rounds  of  the  news- 
papers, —  stories,  some  of  which  Miss  Dix  was  at 
pains  publicly  to  contradict  in  the  press.  Indeed,  she 
always  spoke  of  Mr.  Butler  with  sincere  respect,  and 
felt  most  gratefully  his  service  to  the  cause  she  had  so 
close  at  heart. 

The  name  of  the  asylum  was  now  changed  to  that 
of  the  "  Butler  Hospital,"  —  the  hospital  in  which  for 
long  years  Dr.  Isaac  Ray  proved  so  invaluable  a 
helper  to  every  shape  of  mental  disease.  Later  on, 
farther  handsome  endowments  were  made  to  it  by  Mr. 
Alexander  Duncan,  who  had  married  the  niece  of 
Mr.  Butler,  the  heiress  to  his  great  fortune. 

Thus  was  secured  Miss  Dix's  second  asylum  victory. 
In  two  States  already,  Massachusetts  and  Rhode 
Island,  had  she  been  the  instrument  of  prospectively 
transferring  from  loathsome  dungeons  and  inhuman 
treatment  to  fresh  air,  freedom  from  chains,  and  wise 
and  kindly  supervision,  several  hundred  wretched 
creatures,  and  in  awakening  a  public  sentiment  that 


RHODE  ISLAND  NEXT.  103 

was  the  pledge  of  a  better  order  of  things  in  the  fu- 
ture. The  "  Look  on  this  picture  and  on  this !  "  was 
taking  tangible  shape  in  a  way  to  gladden  her  benev- 
olent heart. 

Little  time  did  she  now  waste  in  denouncing  the 
inhumanity  of  jailers  and  almshouse  keepers  in  their 
treatment  of  the  insane.  That  average  human  nature 
should  finally  grow  exasperated  over  such  shapes  of 
perversity ;  that  ordinary  and  ignorant  men  and  wo- 
men, rendered  sleepless  by  midnight  yells  of  profanity 
and  indecency,  or  kept  in  terror  of  fire  or  violence, 
should  finally  give  way  thoroughly  to  the  "  wild-beast 
theory,"  and  feel  that  cellars,  out-houses,  and  iron 
cages  were  the  only  safe  places  in  which  to  chain  up 
the  more  desperate  cases,  was  no  more  than  what  was 
rationally  to  be  expected.  The  only  relief  lay,  she 
clearly  saw,  in  multiplying  institutions,  presided  over 
by  men  of  the  science,  elevation  of  character,  and  ex- 
ceptional endowment  of  patient  insight  requisite  for 
exorcising  such  seeming  demoniacal  possession. 


CHAPTEK  XL 

MY   FIRST-BORN   CHILD. 

SUCCESSFUL,  however,  as  Miss  Dix  had  been  in 
providing  for  the  immediate  exigency  in  Khode  Island 
through  an  appeal  to  private  charity,  she  soon  saw 
with  increasing  clearness  the  utter  inadequacy  of  such 
measures  to  afford  relief  on  the  scale  that  was  impera- 
tively demanded.  The  farther  she  pushed  her  investi- 
gations, the  vaster  and  more  wide  spread  was  discov- 
ered to  be  the  evil  to  be  coped  with.  Comparatively 
few  of  the  States  of  the  Union  had  as  yet  any  State 
asylums.  The  power  of  public  taxation,  on  a  scale 
adequate  to  the  work  to  be  accomplished,  must  now, 
she  felt,  be  evoked  ;  more  even  than  this,  the  people 
of  the  States  must  be  wrought  to  a  pitch  of  enlighten- 
ment and  mercy  at  which  they  would  feel  willing  and 
glad  to  be  taxed. 

It  was  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  and  with  the 
foundation  of  the  asylum  at  Trenton,  that  Miss  Dix 
began  this,  her  far  larger  and  more  characteristic 
work,  —  the  work  no  longer  of  supplementing  the  defi- 
ciencies of  institutions  already  existing,  but  of  creat- 
ing institutions  de  novo  and  out  of  nothing.  There, 
in  Trenton,  was  it  that  she  went  through  the  travail 
of  bearing  beneath  her  heart  what  she  ever  after 
characterized  as  her  "  first-born  child,"  owing  its 
whole  life  to  her  as  mother.  There,  forty-five  years 
later,  was  she  herself,  worn  out  with  toil,  age,  and 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  105 

disease,  to  die,  in  apartments  gratefully  tendered  for 
her  free  use  by  the  trustees  of  the  institution  ;  and 
there,  in  those  last  days  of  weariness  and  pain,  was  it 
that,  when  one  morning  her  faithful  friend  and  physi- 
cian, Dr.  John  W.  Ward,  the  superintendent  of  the. 
asylum,  came  into  her  room  with  the  joyful  intelli- 
gence that  he  was  father  of  his  first-born  child,  she 
broke  out,  "  Yes,  and  born  under  the  roof  of  my  first- 
born child !  " 

As  the  work  of  Miss  Dix  in  first  breaking  ground 
in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  in  creating  there  a  new 
and  effective  public  sentiment,  and  in  finally  getting 
this  sentiment  embodied  in  positive  legislative  action, 
was,  alike  in  its  tactics,  its  courage,  its  persistence, 
and  its  power  of  moral  ascendency,  the  same  which 
she  repeated  so  marvelously  in  a  whole  round  of 
States,  it  seems  best  to  treat  this  as  a  typical  instance 
of  her  constant  rule  of  action,  and  to  go  somewhat 
circumstantially  into  the  story  of  the  nature  of  the 
helps  and  hindrances  she  there,  as  everywhere,  encoun- 
tered. To  attempt  the  same  of  all  the  great  pub- 
lic institutions  of  which  she  was,  single-handed,  the 
founder,  would  be  to  fill  many  volumes.  One  exam- 
ple, vividly  conceived,  will  suffice  the  reader  for  all. 

First  and  foremost,  she  went  forth  quietly  and 
alone.  No  trumpet  announced  that  a  distinguished 
philanthropist  was  about  to  probe  to  the  bottom  the 
moral  condition  of  the  State,  to  champion  the  op- 
pressed, and  to  prove  a  terror  to  evil  doers.  Here 
was  no  excitable  novice  in  hunting,  noisily  scaring 
up  the  game  before  the  piece  was  charged  and  the 
finger  on  the  trigger,  ready  to  shoot.  In  truth,  few 
knew,  or  so  much  as  suspected,  the  fact  that  a  quietly 
dressed  woman  was  moving  about  from  county  to 


106  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

county,  taking  notes  of  the  condition  of  every  jail  and 
almshouse.  Thus,  foul  secrets  that  would  have  been 
carefully  hidden  away  from  regularly  appointed  com- 
mittees—  stopping  first  tumultuously  to  dine  and 
wine  at  the  public  tavern,  —  were  contemptuously  ex- 
posed to  this  unheralded,  supposedly  uninfluential 
woman.  Meanwhile,  nothing  escaped  her  trained  eye, 
and  before  people  dreamed  what  she  was  doing  she 
had  gathered  her  statistics,  and  was  master  of  the 
position.  She  had  now  her  fulcrum  and  her  Archi- 
medes lever,  through  which  she  felt  she  could  lift  a 
world  of  moral  apathy. 

This  preliminary  work  done,  and  thoroughly  done, 
the  second  resort  of  Miss  Dix  was  always  to  her  power 
of  direct  personal  influence  over  the  leaders  of  the 
social  and  political  world.  A  born  leader  herself,  her 
instinct  for  detecting  the  gift  of  leadership  in  others 
was  well-nigh  infallible.  "  Her  insight  into  charac- 
ter," says  of  her  Dr.  P.  Bryce,  superintendent  of  the 
asylum  at  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama,  "  was  truly  marvel- 
ous ;  and  I  have  never  met  any  one,  man  or  woman, 
who  bore  more  distinctly  the  mark  of  intellectuality." 
For  large  numbers  of  self-supposed  men  of  weight  and 
influence,  she  entertained  a  quiet,  well-disguised  con- 
tempt. Well  disguised,  however,  it  always  was  ;  they 
never  found  it  out.  She  was  careful  to  make  no  ene- 
mies whenever  she  could  help  it;  for  so  thoroughly 
did  she  identify  herself  with  her  cause,  as  to  feel  that 
enmity  to  her  would  mean  enmity  to  it.  Many  and 
many  the  humble  country  member  of  the  legislature,  a 
man  of  few  words,  but  those  words  rocks,  who  was 
recognized  by  her,  if  for  no  other  quality  but  honest 
stubbornness  in  maintaining  a  position  once  taken,  as 
in  reality  a  more  important  factor  to  be  reckoned  with 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  107 

than  a  score  of  noisy,  bustling  politicians.  Especially 
among  the  plain  Quakers  of  New  Jersey,  men  and 
women,  did  she  recruit  stanch  supporters,  who,  once 
enlisted,  never  deserted  the  ranks. 

From  the  moment,  however,  when  it  became  the 
question  of  practically  engineering  a  bill  through  the 
legislature,  then  it  was  another  matter,  and  she  im- 
peratively insisted  on  putting  the  full  management 
into  the  hands  of  men  of  first-rate  political  ability,  — 
men  humane,  indeed,  and  sincerely  interested,  but 
men  abreast  with  every  device  and  trick  of  the  enemy. 
Her  Memorial  once  written,  charged  to  the  cannon's 
mouth  with  grape  and  canister,  and,  behind  it,  the 
explosive  fulminate  of  her  own  latent  passion,  then 
the  question  of  who  should  "  touch  off  the  piece,"  to 
recur  to  Dr.  Howe's  apt  figure  of  speech,  —  whether 
some  one  who  would  aim  at  nothing  and  hit  nothing, 
or  some  one  who  should  discharge  it  straight  into  the 
thickest  ranks,  —  was  to  her  an  issue,  as  all  important 
as,  with  Napoleon  or  Nelson,  that  of  who  should  han- 
dle his  artillery  or  point  his  broadsides. 

Just  here,  in  the  profound  influence  she  exercised 
over  many  of  these  leaders,  and  in  her  consequent 
power  to  secure  from  them  the  most  chivalrous  ser- 
vice, lay  one  marked  secret  of  Miss  Dix's  unexampled 
success.  By  a  sure  instinct  of  compassion,  she  speedily 
found  her  way  into  the  heart  of  every  household  where 
affliction  was  on  hand.  There  was,  it  might  be,  an  in- 
valid wife  in  the  home,  or  a  young  daughter  wasting 
away  with  disease,  or  a  promising  son  blighted  on  the 
threshold  of  life  by  threatened  or  actual  insanity.* 
Into  these  households  she  stole,  an  angel  of  consola- 
tion, her  sustaining  power  in  all  hours  of  darkness  and 
pain  a  marvel  to  those  uplifted  by  it.  At  last  came  the 


108  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

day  when  this  was  remembered  in  some  memorable  act. 
Let  a  single  example  of  how  remembered  suffice.  The 
especial  case  here  instanced  was  communicated  to  the 
writer  of  this  biography  by  Dr.  Eugene  Grissom, 
superintendent  of  the  Insane  Asylum  at  Ealeigh, 
North  Carolina,  and,  though  occurring  in  another  State 
than  New  Jersey,  still  illustrates  a  frequently  repeated 
experience  in  Miss  Dix's  efforts  at  passing  her  hospi- 
tal bills. 

"  The  first  appropriation  bill  looking  to  the  erection  of  an 
asylum  in  North  Carolina  was  defeated.  Mrs.  Dobbin,  wife 
of  Hon.  James  C.  Dobbin,  of  Fayetteville,  afterwards  Sec- 
retary of  the  Navy,  was  very  sick  at  Raleigh.  Her  husband 
was  a  member  of  the  House.  On  her  death-bed  she  ex- 
pressed to  Miss  Dix  her  deep  gratitude  for  the  tender  care 
that  noble  woman  had  given  her  in  her  own  illness,  and, 
almost  with  her  dying  breath,  begged  her  gifted  husband 
to  repay  her  own  debt  of  gratitude  to  Miss  Dix  by  another 
effort  to  pass  the  asylum  bill. 

"  Almost  as  soon  as  the  last  sad  services  of  interment 
were  ended,  Mr.  Dobbin  entered  the  House,  clad  in  the 
deepest  mourning  and  broken  with  sorrow.  He  entered  at 
once  on  the  fulfillment  of  the  duty  he  owed  to  the  pious  dead 
and  the  afflicted  living.  Feeling  keenly  his  own  bereave- 
ment and  cherishing  sympathy  for  the  woes  of  others,  sus- 
tained by  the  profound  sympathy  that  moved  every  bosom, 
he  redeemed  nobly  his  last  promise  to  a  dying  wife  by  a 
speech  which  made  a  great  impression  at  the  time,  and  the 
tradition  of  which  has  descended  to  this  generation.  .  .  . 
All  was  favorable  to  the  orator.  His  own  nature  was  moved 
to  its  very  depths.  His  heart  was  softened  and  made  ten- 
der by  a  distressing  bereavement.  Gratitude  to  Miss  Dix, 
deep  sympathy  for  the  smitten  of  God,  a  yearning  desire  to 
help  the  unfortunate,  all  moved  the  gifted  and  generous 
North  Carolinian,  and  he  rose  to  the  great  demands  of  the 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  109 

occasion  and  the  height  of  the  argument,  producing  an  ora- 
tion rarely  equaled.  All  opposition  disappeared  under  the 
power  of  the  eloquent  and  pathetic  pleader,  and  the  bill 
passed  by  an  overwhelming  vote." 

Almost  from  the  start  of  Miss  Dix's  career  in  her 
work  of  carrying  the  State  legislatures,  so  profound 
was  the  impression  made  by  her  exceptional  personal- 
ity that  an  especial  room,  or  separate  alcove  in  the 
library,  was  habitually  set  apart  for  her,  in  which  to 
be  visited  by  the  members.  There  she  studied  with 
eager  scrutiny  the  list  of  the  representatives  in  the 
Assembly,  endeavoring  to  find  out  as  far  as  possible 
the  character  of  each  for  humanity  or  self-seeking, 
courage  or  servility  to  public  opinion.  Before  very 
long  she  knew  them  thoroughly,  many  of  them  far 
more  thoroughly  than  they  ever  knew  themselves. 
She  did  not,  however,  herself  enter  the  halls  of  legis- 
lation, nor  seek  interviews  of  the  members  in  their 
homes  or  in  the  lobbies.  Always  she  laid  great  stress 
on  preserving  her  womanly  dignity,  and  saw  plainly 
how  easy  it  was  to  vulgarize  alike  a  cause  and  its  rep- 
resentative by  a  pushing  and  teasing  demeanor.  Mem- 
bers of  either  house  were  brought  in  by  influential 
friends  to  her  own  room  or  alcove,  and  there  she 
wrought  on  them  in  every  way  of  cogent  argument 
and  eloquent  entreaty.  The  only  exception  to  this,  of 
a  slightly  more  public  nature,  was  her  habit  of  inviting 
into  the  parlor  of  her  boarding-house  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  gentlemen  at  a  time,  for  conversation  and  dis- 
cussion. 

When  once  her  Memorial  had  been  read  to  the 
legislature,  and  then,  through  the  medium  of  the  news- 
papers, had  been  brought  before  the  general  public, 
she  next  worked  with  energy  the  instrumentality  of 


110  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

the  press,  writing  for  it  innumerable  articles  herself, 
and  enlisting  in  the  same  service  all  who  wielded  elo- 
quent pens.  To  rouse  all  over  the  State  a  powerful 
public  opinion  was  an  aim  she  never  lost  sight  of,  no 
one  knowing  more  clearly  the  subserviency  to  it  of 
politicians. 

To  return  now,  from  these  more  general  statements 
of  Miss  Dix's  methods,  to  the  immediate  case  of  the 
passage  of  the  New  Jersey  bill,  which  ushered  into 
the  world  her  first-born  asylum  child. 

It  was  first  on  January  23,  1845,  that  her  Memorial 
to  the  legislature  of  New  Jersey  was  presented  to  the 
Senate  by  Miss  Dix's  stanch  supporter,  Hon.  Joseph 
S.  Dodd.  Like  all  her  public  papers,  it  was  written 
with  great  ability,  and  embodied  a  judicious  blending 
of  pathetic  appeal  with  strong  rational  argument. 
Less  nakedly  terrible  than  the  Massachusetts  Memo- 
rial, it  was  more  tender  in  its  spirit ;  fuller,  indeed, 
of  the  comforting  hope  of  the  redeeming  Purgatorio 
than  of  the  despair  of  the  rayless  Inferno.  Gleams 
of  light  are  thrown  on  the  gratitude  in  the  hearts  of 
the  poor  sufferers  for  the  smallest  attempts  to  allevi- 
ate their  miseries,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  following  ex- 
tracts :  — 

"  One  whom  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  have  removed  to  a 
situation  of  greater  comfort,  and  to  supply  with  some  of  the 
common  necessaries  of  common  life,  said,  raising  his  trem- 
bling arms  reverently,  '  God's  spirit  hids  this  message  to 
you,  saying  it  is  His  work  you  are  doing ;  lo,  it  shall  pros- 
per in  your  hands !  '  ...  Another,  a  female,  whose  scarred 
limbs  bore  marks  of  the  cankering  iron  worn  for  many 
weary  years,  said,  '  I  could  curse  those  who  chain  me  like 
a  brute  beast,  and  I  do,  too,  but  sometimes  the  soft  voice 
says,  Pray  for  thine  enemy,  and  this  it  sings  often  while 


3/y  FIRST-BORN   CHILD.  Ill 

the  sun  shines  on  the  poor  mind ;  but  darkness  comes,  and 
then  the  thoughts  are  evil  continually,  and  the  soul  is 
black ! ' " 

How,  farther,  all  classes,  rich  as  well  as  poor,  highly 
intellectual  as  well  as  feeble-minded,  are  exposed  alike 
to  the  visitation  of  this  fearful  scourge  was  strikingly 
illustrated  by  instances  of  which  the  following  gives  a 
touching  example  :  — 

"  On  a  level  with  the  cellar,  in  a  basement  room,  which 
was  tolerably  decent,  but  bare  enough  of  comforts,  lay,  upon 
a  small  bed,  a  feeble,  aged  man,  whose  few  gray  locks  fell 
tangled  about  his  pillow.  As  we  entered,  he  addressed  one 
present,  saying,  '  I  am  all  broken  up,  all  broken  up ! '  *  Do 
you  feel  much  weaker,  then,  Judge  ?  '  *  The  mind,  the  mind 
is  going,  —  almost  gone,'  responded  he,  in  tones  of  touching 
sadness.  '  Yes,'  he  continued,  murmuring  to  himself,  '  the 
mind  is  going.'  This  feeble,  depressed  old  man,  a  pauper, 
helpless,  lonely,  and  yet  conscious  of  surrounding  circum- 
stances, and  not  now  wholly  oblivious  of  the  past,  —  this 
feeble  old  man,  who  was  he  ?  I  answer  as  I  was  answered ; 
but  he  is  not  unknown  to  many  of  you.  In  his  young  and 
vigorous  years  he  filled  various  places  of  honor  and  trust 
among  you.  His  ability  as  a  lawyer  raised  him  to  the  bench. 
As  a  jurist,  he  was  distinguished  for  uprightness,  clearness, 
and  impartiality.  He  also  was  judge  of  the  orphans'  court. 
He  was  for  many  years  a  member  of  the  legislature.  His 
habits  were  correct,  and  I  could  learn,  from  those  who  had 
known  him  for  many  years,  nothing  to  his  discredit,  but 
much  that  commends  men  to  honor  and  respect.  The  me- 
ridian of  an  active  and  useful  life  was  passed ;  the  property, 
honestly  acquired,  on  which  he  relied  for  comfortable  sup- 
port during  his  declining  years  was  lost  through  some  of 
those  fluctuations  which  so  often  produce  reverses  for  thou- 
sands. He  became  insane,  and  his  insanity  assumed  the 
form  of  frenzy  ;  he  was  chained  '  for  safety.'  " 


112  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

The  Memorial,  once  presented  to  the  Senate,  as 
above  stated,  by  Hon.  Joseph  S.  Dodd,  was  followed  by 
him  with  the  immediate  preamble  and  resolution  :  — 

"Whereas  the  expediency  of  erecting  a  State  Lunatic 
Asylum  having  been  at  various  times  under  the  considera- 
tion of  the  legislature  of  this  State,  and  it  appearing  by  the 
facts  now  before  us  in  relation  to  this  subject  that  we 
greatly  need  such  an  establishment,  therefore 

"  Resolved,  by  the  Senate  and  General  Assembly  of  the 
State  of  New  Jersey,  that  the  time  has  now  arrived  when  it 
is  the  duty  of  the  State  to  enter  upon  the  execution  of  this 
work  by  the  adoption  of  the  necessary  measures  for  that 
purpose  during  the  present  session  of  the  legislature." 

This  was  read  and  ordered  to  lie  on  the  table  for 
the  present. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Dodd  saw  it  to  be  necessary  to 
modify  the  previous  resolution  by  calling  for  a  joint 
committee  of  both  houses  for  farther  consideration  of 
the  subject.  The  resolution  was  passed,  and  Messrs. 
Dodd,  Wurts,  and  Willets  were  appointed  on  the 
part  of  the  Senate,  and,  later  on,  Messrs.  Evans, 
Bond,  Pierson,  and  Fort  on  the  part  of  the  House  of 
Assembly. 

By  February  25  the  joint  committee  made  their  re- 
port. They  declared  it  unnecessary  for  them  to  oc- 
cupy farther  time,  as  they  could  "  only  repeat  what  is 
better  said  in  the  Memorial  of  Miss  Dix,  .  .  .  which 
presents  the  whole  subject  in  so  lucid  a  manner  as  to 
supersede  the  necessity  of  farther  remark  from  us." 
The  report  concluded  with  the  following*  fervid  ap- 
peal :  — 

"  Is  then  our  path  any  longer  doubtful  ?  Have  we  not 
every  indication  by  the  facts  in  our  possession  that  the  time 
has  now  arrived  for  entering  at  once  upon  this  enterprise, 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  113 

so  dear  to  the  philanthropist,  the  Christian,  and  the  patriot, 
and  inseparably  connected  with  the  welfare  of  those  for 
whom  it  is  designed ;  an  enterprise  whose  beneficent  opera- 
tion will  be  felt  not  only  by  this,  but  by  generations  to  come 
after  us,  and,  as  we  hope,  through  all  future  time ;  an  en- 
terprise that  will  reflect  more  lasting  honor  on  the  State, 
and  tell  more  upon  human  happiness,  than  all  our  legisla- 
tion for  the  last  half  century  ?  We  are  behind  the  move- 
ments of  the  age  and  the  spirit  of  the  times.  Let  us  be  up 
and  doing ;  we  are  behind  our  sister  States.  Many  of  them 
have  already  moved  forward  in  this  field  of  humane  exer- 
tion with  a  zeal  and  liberality  that  do  them  honor ;  and 
shall  we,  Jerseymen,  who  are  proud  of  the  name,  be  left  far 
in  the  distance  or  not  move  at  all,  sitting  still,  with  our 
arms  folded  in  inglorious  sloth,  satisfied  if  we  can  reap, 
though  partially,  the  benefit  of  their  labors,  rather  than 
provide  for  ourselves  those  privileges  for  which  we  are  now 
dependent  on  them  ?" 

In  Miss  Dix's  habitual  experience  in  dealing  with 
State  legislatures,  so  thoroughly  had  at  this  stage  of 
the  proceedings  the  preliminary  work  been  done  that, 
as  a  rule,  the  higher-minded  members  of  both  Houses 
and  the  more  enlightened  portion  of  the  community 
might  now  be  relied  on  as  genuine  converts  to  the 
measure.  Just  at  this  point,  however,  usually  began 
the  real  tug  of  war  with  another  class  of  minds. 
After  the  first  outburst  of  generous  enthusiasm,  a 
reaction  was  sure  to  set  in.  However  pitiful  the 
hearts  of  constituents,  still  every  bill  involving  inevi- 
table increase  of  taxation  is  sure  to  search  those 
acutely  sensitive  nerves  that  have  their  terminal  pe- 
ripheries in  the  pocket.  Now  comes  the  chance  of  the 
demagogue,  eager  to  make  capital  out  of  his  cham- 
pionship of  the  interests  of  an  already  overburdened 


114  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

public ;  now  the  day  of  fear  and  quaking  to  the  timid 
member,  who  feels  his  chance  of  reelection  at  stake, 
should  he  venture  to  vote  for  the  proposed  measure. 
"  By  the  way,"  said,  at  a  later  date,  to  Miss  Dix,  a 
friend  with  whom  she  was  talking,  "  a  gentleman  of 
the  House  told  me  that  the  biggest  gun  that  was  lev- 
eled to  defeat  his  reelection,  was  the  fact  of  having 
voted  to  publish  your  Memorial."  "  What  did  he  an- 
swer ?  "  "  Why,  that  he  would  have  been  proud  of 
such  a  defeat !  "  But  large  numbers  were  of  a  more 
lowly  frame  of  mind,  and  felt  no  such  lofty  pride  in 
the  prospect  of  political  martyrdom. 

Here,  then,  was  the  crisis  in  which  Miss  Dix  always 
found  the  severest  and  most  unremitting  work  imposed 
upon  her.  She  was  up  every  morning  before  sunrise, 
writing  letters  and  editorials  ;  through  all  the  hours  of 
the  session  she  was  holding  private  interviews  with 
members;  in  the  evenings,  as  often  as  possible,  she 
was  arguing  with  and  entreating  a  company  of  fifteen 
to  twenty  specially  invited  to  her  parlor,  —  generally 
the  most  obstinate  cases  to  deal  with.  Only  at  mid- 
night did  she  seek  her  pillow.  It  was  exhausting 
work,  for  on  her  individual  power  to  ray  out  light 
enough  to  illuminate  ignorant  minds,  and  to  radiate 
heat  and  glow  enough  to  kindle  the  apathetic,  turned 
the  whole  issue.  A  glimpse  into  her  own  hours,  alike 
of  depression  and  of  joy,  is  caught  in  the  following 
letter  of  this  date  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Hare,  of  Phila- 
delphia :  — 

"  I  must  write  to  you,  I  must  have  your  sympathy.  How 
I  long  for  your  heart-charming  smile !  Just  now  I  need 
calmness ;  I  am  exhausted  under  this  perpetual  effort  and 
exercise  of  fortitude.  At  Trenton,  thus  far,  all  is  pros- 
perous, but  you  cannot  imagine  the  labor  of  conversing  and 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  115 

convincing.  Some  evenings  I  had  at  once  twenty  gentlemen 
for  three  hours'  steady  conversation.  The  last  evening,  a 
rough  country  member,  who  had  announced  in  the  House 
that  the  '  wants  of  the  insane  in  New  Jersey  were  all  hum- 
bug,' and  who  came  to  overwhelm  me  with  his  arguments, 
after  listening  an  hour  and  a  half  with  wonderful  patience 
to  my  details  and  to  principles  of  treatment,  suddenly 
moved  into  the  middle  of  the  parlor,  and  thus  delivered 
himself :  '  Ma'am,  I  bid  you  good-night !  I  do  not  want, 
for  my  part,  to  hear  anything  more ;  the  others  can  stay  if 
they  want  to.  I  am  convinced  ;  you  've  conquered  me  out 
and  out ;  I  shall  vote  for  the  hospital.  If  you  '11  come  to 
the  House,  and  talk  there  as  you  've  done  here,  no  man  that 
is  n't  a  brute  can  stand  you ;  and  so,  when  a  man  's  con- 
vinced, that 's  enough.  The  Lord  bless  you  ! '  —  and  there- 
upon he  departed." 

No  doubt  Miss  Dix  went  to  bed  that  night  in  a 
happy  and  grateful  frame  of  mind.  In  these  individ- 
ual victories,  constantly  repeated,  lay  the  hidingplace 
of  her  power.  But  there  remained  always  a  plenty 
of  material  needing  conversion,  and,  .quite  as  likely  as 
not,  she  would  wake  up  the  following  morning  only  to 
read,  in  the  newspaper  report  of  the  debate  of  the 
preceding  day,  a  speech  from  an  "  unterrified  "  mem- 
ber, like  the  following :  — 

"  Sir,  I  shall  not  trust  the  estimate  of  these  commission- 
ers, who  have  devised  the  plan  of  this  Egyptian  Collosheum. 
New  Jersey  has  hitherto  acted  well.  She  has  kept  clear  of 
a  national  debt,  which  some  folks  call  a  national  blessing. 
Let  us  husband  our  resources.  I  had  rather  spend  the 
money  in  educating  the  children  of  the  State,  .  .  .  qualify- 
ing them  to  act  their  part  well  in  life,  and  preparing  them 
for  eternity.  .  .  .  There  '11  be  a  day  of  account,  and  it 's 
not  far  ahead.  I  have  seldom  prophesied  on  this  floor  but 
it  turned  out  correct  True,  I  missed  it  last  year.  I  do 


116  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

believe  that  if  that  Miss  Dix  had  been  paid  $500  or  $600, 
and  escorted  over  the  Delaware  or  to  Philadelphia,  or  even 
$1,000,  and  taken  to  Washington  city,  and,  if  you  choose, 
enshrined  in  the  White  House,  it  would  have  been  money 
well  laid  out.  Now,  I  should  like  the  whys  and  wherefores 
for  a  building  487  feet  long  and  80  feet  wide,  for,  may  be, 
twenty  lunatics.  I  believe  that  the  best  thing  we  could  do, 
would  be  to  appropriate  $200  or  $300,  to  fill  up  the  cellars 
and  sow  them  over  with  grass-seed,  so  that  the  spot  may  not 
be  seen  hereafter.  You  could  n't  do  a  more  popular  act !  " 

Unquestionably,  the  report  of  a  speech  like  this 
was  read  with  as  lively  satisfaction  by  an  elect  class 
of  its  author's  constituents,  and  was  as  highly  ap- 
plauded for  its  combination  of  soaring  imagination 
with  a  strict  eye  to  business,  as  the  honorable  mem- 
ber could  himself  have  desired.  But  this  was  not  the 
kind  of  oratory,  nor  was  this  the  type  of  man,  of  whom 
Miss  Dix  stood  in  any  sort  of  fear.  A  few  solid  words 
from  the  plain  country  member,  who  the  night  before 
had  said,  "Ma'am,  you've  conquered  me  out  and 
out ;  I  '11  vote  for  the  hospital,"  would,  she  knew,  dis- 
pose effectually  of  a  full  hour  of  such  "  spread-eagle  " 
eloquence. 

The  man,  however,  of  whom  she  did  always  stand 
in  dread  was  the  man  of  great  natural  flux  of  senti- 
mental speech,  who  from  the  outset  insinuated  himself 
into  the  minds  of  his  audience  as  the  friend  and 
champion  of  all  the  world's  disinherited  ones,  never 
failing,  likewise,  to  make  effusive  allusion  to  herself 
as  that  "  Heaven-sent  angel  of  mercy,"  and  yet  who 
forthwith  proceeded  to  insist  that  now,  alas !  the  exi- 
gency had  arrived  when  it  was  the  stern  dictate  of 
duty  to  control  such  sensibilities,  even  though  with 
bleeding  hearts  they  should  feel  obliged  to  vote  against 
the  bill  before  them. 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  117 

It  may  be  well,  therefore,  in  commenting  on  these 
various  legislative  experiences  to  which  Miss  Dix  had 
to  adjust  herself,  to  give  a  specimen  of  the  kind  of 
speech  and  the  kind  of  man  she  always  felt  to  be 
most  dangerous.  The  speech  in  question  was  not  de- 
livered before  the  New  Jersey  Legislature,  but  at  an- 
other period  and  in  another  State.  Still,  it  is  one  of 
those  clear-cut,  polished  gems  of  eloquence  which  per- 
fectly illustrates  the  case  in  hand. 

"  SENATORS.  — '  The  liberal  man,'  saith  Solomon,  '  devis- 
eth  liberal  things,  and  by  liberal  things  shall  he  prosper.' 
To  this  sentiment  I  respond,  and  hold  it  to  be  true  no  less 
of  States  than  individuals.  None,  sir,  is  a  firmer  friend  than 
myself  to  this  charity.  .  .  . 

"  But,  sir,  my  experience,  limited  as  it  is,  has  taught  me 
that  the  same  law  governs  in  the  moral  as  in  the  physical 
world,  and  that  premature  development  is  attended  by  pre- 
mature decay.  .  .  . 

"  It  becomes  us,  therefore,  to  be  borne  away  by  no  child- 
like sensibility,  no  generous  enthusiasm,  no  over- zeal  nor 
haste  to  accomplish  an  acknowledged  good.  .  .  . 

"  Under  these  views  and  feelings,  therefore,  I  am  con- 
strained, Mr.  President,  at  this  time,  to  oppose  this  project 
under  every  aspect  it  may  now  assume  before  us.  ... 

"  In  conclusion,  I  should  do  injustice  to  my  feelings  if  I 
omitted  this  occasion  to  express  my  unlimited  admiration  of 
the  distinguished  zeal  and  ability  with  which  this  measure 
has  been  prosecuted  by  the  remarkable  lady  who,  it  is 
but  due  to  her  to  say,  has  been  its  chief  promoter  and 
friend.  .  .  . 

"  Woman,  Mr.  President,  is  ever  lovely,  and  when  she 
assumes  the  rare  and  sacred  office  of  disinterested  philan- 
thropy she  becomes  indeed  an  angel !  " 

To  be  called  an  angel,  and  in  the  same  breath  have 
her  bill  for  the  relief  of  the  outcasts  of  the  earth  voted 


118  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

down,  was  a  strain  of  celestial  compliment  for  which 
Miss  Dix  never  manifested  a  trace  of  feminine  relish. 
Much  more  delicately  did  she  appreciate  the  testimo- 
nial of  a  rough-and-ready  proposition  to  "  raise  $500 
or  $600  to  escort  her  over  the  Delaware  or  to  Phila- 
delphia, or  even  $1,000  to  enshrine  her  in  the  White 
House  ;  "  for  this  proved  demonstratively  that  she  was 
making  so  strong  an  impression  that  low-minded  men 
felt  it  was  worth  "thirty  pieces  of  silver  "  to  get  rid 
of  affording  her  any  further  chance  to  "  deceive  the 
people." 

To  conclude  now  this  full  and  detailed  account  of 
the  passage  of  the  bill  for  the  establishment  of  the 
New  Jersey  State  Lunatic  Asylum,  —  an  account 
which,  as  before  stated,  must  serve  for  a  typical  in- 
stance of  the  helps  and  hindrances  encountered  by 
Miss  Dix  in  all  her  widespread  and  marvelously  suc- 
cessful legislative  work ;  — 

By  March  14,  1845,  the  Act  of  Authorization  was 
taken  up  and  read  for  the  last  time,  and  the  proposi- 
tion to  postpone  farther  action  till  the  next  session  of 
the  Legislature  voted  down  in  the  Senate :  ayes  2,  nays 
16.  Upon  the  question,  "  Shall  this  bill  now  pass?  " 
ayes  18,  nays  none.  March  20,  certain  amendments 
were  proposed  by  the  House  of  Assembly,  to  which, 
March  24,  the  Senate  agreed.  Then,  March  25,  the 
reen grossed  Bill  passed :  18  ayes,  nays  none.  The 
victory  was  absolute  ;  the  State  had  covered  itself 
with  glory.  Immediately,  Hon.  Joseph  S.  Dodd  sent 
in  word  to  Miss  Dix,  anxiously  yet  confidently  await- 
ing intelligence  in  her  room  :  — 

"  SENATE  CHAMBER,  N.  J. 

"  I  am  happy  to  announce  to  you  the  passage  unanimously 
of  the  bill  for  the  New  Jersey  State  Lunatic  Asylum." 


MY  FIRST-BORN  CHILD.  119 

It  was  in  her  "  mind's  eye  "  alone  that  Miss  Dix 
could  as  yet  see  the  full  meaning  of  this  vote.  So  far, 
only  "a  castle  in  the  air"  was  it  at  whose  ideal 
foundations  and  superstructure  she  had  thus  been 
working.  The  stately  buildings ;  the  ample  and 
beautiful  grounds,  with  their  grass-slopes,  trees,  flow- 
ers, and  sparkling  fountains ;  the  quiet,  home-like 
wards ;  the  wise  and  tender  care  that  were  to  take 
home  to  their  arms  so  many  of  the  friendless  and 
wretched,  —  all  these  benedictions,  which  were  to 
spring  from  the  victory  she  had  won,  had  as  yet  nei- 
ther a  "  local  habitation  nor  a  name."  But  she  was 
one  of  those  highly  favored  ones  who  believe  without 
seeing;  nay,  one  of  that  exceptional  class  of  conse- 
crated workers  for  humanity  who  are  permitted  to 
behold  their  most  high-wrought  "visionary"  ideals 
finally  materialized  before  their  eyes  in  a  correspond- 
ing real  and  actual.  The  day  was  drawing  on  when, 
in  twenty  different  States,  she  was  to  see  with  the  bod- 
ily eye  such  an  outward  and  tangible  witness  of  the 
power  of  her  own  inner  life  as  is  rarely  given  to  a 
mortal  to  behold.  "  Verily,  thou  wast  a  mighty  builder 
before  the  Lord !  "  is  the  exclamation  involuntarily 
wrung  from  the  mind  of  any  one  who,  following  her 
footsteps  from  State  to  State,  enters,  one  after  an- 
other, the  beautiful  parks,  and  traverses  the  halls  and 
wards  of  the  immense  structures,  she,  with  the  Alad- 
din's lamp  of  her  own  moral  genius,  summoned  into 
being.  Very  easy  is  it  then  to  appreciate  the  enthu- 
siasm with  which  her  friend,  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  wrote  to 
her  from  Boston,  on  July  15  of  this  year,  1845 :  — 

"  As  for  you,  my  friend,  what  shall  I  say  to  you  to  ex- 
press my  feelings  respecting  your  course  since  I  have  seen 
you  personally  ?  Nothing,  for  words  would  fail  me  ;  and, 


120  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

besides,  you  want  not  words  of  human  praise.  I  look  back 
to  the  time  when  the  whisperings  of  maiden  delicacy  made 
you  hesitate  about  obeying  the  stern  voice  of  conscience.  I 
recollect  what  you  were  then,  I  think  of  your  noble  career 
since,  and  I  say,  God  grant  me  to  look  back  upon  some 
three  years  of  my  life  with  a  part  of  the  self-approval  you 
must  feel !  I  ask  no  higher  fortune.  No  one  need  say  to 
you,  Go  on !  for  you  have  heard  a  higher  than  any  human 
voice,  and  you  will  follow  whither  it  calleth.  God  give  you 
as  much  strength  as  you  have  courage,  for  your  mission !  " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  IN  JOURNEYINGS  OFTEN." 

IN  the  letter  of  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  quoted  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  last  chapter,  wondering  allusion  was 
made  by  him  to  the  range  and  multiplicity  of  Miss 
Dix's  labors  during  the  previous  three  years.  Of  the 
actual  extent  of  these  labors  no  due  notice  has  as  yet 
been  taken,  as  it  seemed  wiser  for  the  time  to  concen- 
trate attention  wholly  on  her  work  in  New  Jersey,  and 
to  emphasize  it  as  an  illustration  of  the  methods  she 
habitually  adopted. 

In  reality,  only  a  portion  of  the  years  1843-45  had 
been  spent  by  her  in  New  Jersey,  either  while  engaged 
in  collecting  from  county  to  county  her  statistics,  or 
while  laboring  with  members  of  the  Legislature.  Of- 
ten the  Legislature  was  not  in  session,  often  it  was 
engaged  on  other  business,  often  matters  were  in  such 
promising  train  that  she  could  safely  leave  them  in  the 
hands  of  able  friends. 

Meanwhile,  she  was  at  work  with  equal  zeal  in  the 
neighboring  State  of  Pennsylvania,  conducting  at 
Harrisburg,  the  capital,  quite  as  arduous  a  campaign, 
and  one  destined  to  prove  as  successful.  Thus  it  hap- 
pened that  the  date  of  the  passage  of  a  bill  for  found- 
ing an  entirely  new  State  institution  at  Harrisburg, 
Penn.,  corresponded  very  closely  with  the  passage  of 
the  Bill  for  the  foundation  of  that  at  Trenton,  N.  J., 


122  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

—  two  equally  great  trophies  of  humanity  won  in 
a  single  year.  Only  constructively,  therefore,  as  in 
the  parallel  human  case  of  the  birth  of  twins  into 
the  family,  can  the  term  "  first-born  child,"  the  term 
always  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  its  fostering  mother, 
be  applied  to  the  Trenton  Asylum.  Indeed,  so  rap- 
idly did  these  asylum  children  now  begin  to  follow 
one  another  into  existence  all  over  the  land  as  to 
drive  a  bewildered  biographer  to  the  conviction  that, 
unless  distinguishing  marks  in  the  way  of  red,  green, 
or  blue  ribbons  shall  be  tied  around  their  infant 
wrists,  hopeless  confusion  will  erelong  ensue  as  to  na- 
tal hours. 

One  capital  sign  of  a  mind  capable  of  accomplishing 
great  results  had  now  become  evident  in  Miss  Dix. 
She  knew  when  she  had  done  enough  in  a  given  place 
or  at  a  given  period,  and  was  haunted  with  no  misgiv- 
ings that,  unless  her  own  hand  were  perpetually  on  the 
wheel,  in  the  immediate  act  of  steering,  the  ship  would 
surely  be  run  on  to  a  reef.  There  was  a  time  for  her 
to  be  taking  her  observations,  working  her  reckoning, 
studying  her  charts,  and  laying  out  the  course  of  the 
whole  broad  India  voyage.  No  less  a  subject  than  the 
immensity  of  the  work  called  for  by  the  condition  of 
the  insane  in  a  large  majority  of  the  States  of  the 
Union,  as  well  as  in  the  British  Dominion  of  Canada, 
had  now  taken  full  possession  of  her.  Accordingly,  in 
these  actual  two  years  in  which  she  achieved  her  great 
successes  in  New  Jersey  and  in  Pennsylvania,  she  is  to 
be  found  making  long  and  arduous  journeys  all  along 
the  wide  stretch  from  Nova  Scotia  to  New  Orleans,  and 
mastering  the  conditions  of  the  problem  before  her. 
A  letter  or  two,  of  widely  differing  dates,  will  serve  to 
bring  before  the  mind  the  extent  of  these  "  circum- 


"IN  JOURNEY1NGS   OFTEN."  123 

navigations  of  charity."     The  letters  were  written  to 
her  friend,  Miss  Heath. 

"LEXINGTON,  KY.,  December  22,  1843. 

"  I  left  Boston  in  September,  as  you  know  ;  visited  en  route 
the  prisons  on  Long  Island  and  in  the  city  of  New  York, 
also  those  of  New  Jersey,  and  duly  reached  Philadelphia. 
There  and  at  Harrisburg  I  was  detained  a  fortnight.  Pro- 
ceeding to  Baltimore,  I  visited  prisons  there,  and  so  on  as 
far  as  Pittsburg  west.  Thence  to  Cincinnati,  where  I  ar- 
rived the  last  of  October. 

The  first  of  November  I  came  to  Kentucky,  and  have 
been  laboriously  traveling  through  the  counties,  collecting 
facts  and  information  ever  since,  except  a  week  which  I 
took  in  Tennessee.  The  Legislature  being  in  session  in 
Nashville,  I  desired  to  do  something  for  the  state  prison. 
This  effected,  I  crossed  the  country  by  a  rapid  journey  to 
Louisville,  traveling  by  stage  two  days  and  nights.  I  pro- 
ceed to-morrow  to  the  northeast  counties,  if  well  enough. 
I  have  engaged  lodgings  in  Frankfort,  Ky.,  for  January 
and  February,  and  shall  probably  go  to  the  Southern  pris- 
ons after  the  Legislature  rises  in  this  State." 

"  AT  SEA.  STEAMER  CHARLESTON,  FROM  SAVANNAH  TO 
CHARLESTON,  —  A  STORM.  LYING  TO.  March  31, 1845. 
"  A  temporary  quiet  induces  me  to  use  the  only  writing 
materials  I  have  now  at  hand.  ...  I  designed  using  the 
spring  and  summer  chiefly  in  examining  the  jails  and 
poorhouses  of  Indiana  and  Illinois.  Having  successfully 
completed  my  mission  in  Kentucky,  I  learned  that  traveling 
in  the  States  referred  to  would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
for  some  weeks  to  come,  on  account  of  mud  and  rains.  This 
decided  me  to  go  down  the  Mississippi  to  examine  the  pris- 
ons and  hospitals  of  New  Orleans,  and,  returning,  to  see  the 
state  prisons  of  Louisiana  at  Baton  Rouge,  of  Mississippi  at 
Jackson,  of  Arkansas  at  Little  Rock,  of  Missouri  at  Jeffer- 
son City,  and  of  Illinois  at  Alton.  ...  I  have  seen  incom- 


124  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

parably  more  to  approve  than  to  censure  in  New  Orleans. 
I  took  the  resolution,  being  so  far  on  the  way,  of  seeing  the 
State  institutions  of  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  South  Carolina. 
Though  this  has  proved  excessively  fatiguing,  I  rejoice  that 
I  have  carried  out  the  purpose." 

It  is  by  a  vigorous  exercise  of  the  imagination  alone 
that  even  a  faint  idea  can  be  conceived  of  the  differ- 
ence between  the  fatigue  and  peril  involved  in  jour- 
neying such  thousands  of  miles  as  far  back  as  1845, 
and  the  speed,  ease,  and  luxury  with  which  the  same 
distances  can  be  accomplished  to-day.  Comparatively 
nothing  then  existed  of  the  enormous  network  of  rail- 
ways which,  at  this  date,  enables  the  traveler  to  pene- 
trate at  will  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  immense 
area  of  the  United  States.  Steamboats  on  the  rivers, 
and,  by  land,  a  few  lines  of  coaches  and  the  hire  of 
private  conveyances,  were  then  the  main  dependence. 
The  craziest  of  vehicles,  the  most  deplorable  roads, 
and  taverns  whose  regulation  diet  of  corn  bread  and 
"  bacon  and  greens  "  would  have  undermined  the  di- 
gestion of  an  ostrich,  were,  in  the  South  and  West, 
the  rule,  and  not  the  exception. 

Those  too,  were  the  reckless  racing  times  on  the 
Ohio,  Tennessee,  Mississippi,  and  Missouri  rivers,  the 
exuberant  days  of  the  earlier  national  effervescence, 
when,  —  to  fall  back  on  the  picturesque  expressions  of 
the  period,  —  the  moment  a  rival  steamboat  hove  in 
sight,  the  heaviest  man  on  board  was  commissioned 
to  sit  on  the  safety-valve,  while  the  excited  planters 
flocked  round  the  captain,  eager  to  dedicate  their  last 
ham  on  the  freight-bills,  or  side  of  greasy  bacon,  to 
feeding  the  fury  of  the  rival  furnace  fires.  Death  by 
explosion  counted  little  against  the  glory  of  victory. 

Safe  escaped  to  land,  however,  discomfort  or  posi- 


"IN  JOURNEYINGS  OFTEN."      •  125 

tive  peril  merely  assumed  a  different  shape.  From 
the  setting  in  of  the  autumn  rains  to  the  heat  and 
dryness  of  the  ensuing  spring,  the  endless  stretches  of 
the  clay  lands  of  the  South  and  West  became  a  conti- 
nent of  seemingly  bottomless  mud.  Few  bridges 
spanned  the  creeks  and  rivers,  which  were  passable 
only  at  certain  fords,  often  swollen  by  rains,  and,  by 
the  force  of  the  current,  rendered  dangerous  to  the  last 
degree.  Frequent  inundations  submerged  the  country 
for  miles  back  of  the  watercourses ;  and  where  the 
actual  roads  were  not  pure  and  unadulterated  mud, 
axle-deep  and  as  tenacious  as  India-rubber,  they  were 
largely  a  "  corduroy  "  of  logs,  alternately  rotted  out, 
over  which  the  vehicle  thumped  and  then  bounded 
into  the  air  with  a  force  which  left  every  bone  and 
muscle  bruised  and  sore.  The  drivers,  as  a  rule,  were 
careless,  happy-go-lucky  negroes,  or  "  poor  whites " 
fortified  with  whiskey  enough  to  lift  them  into  a  realm 
of  serene  unconsciousness  of  risks.  Malarious  fevers 
were  widely  prevalent,  and,  in  years  of  cholera  or 
other  epidemics,  the  lack  of  medical  skill  and  the  gen- 
eral recklessness  in  the  habits  of  life  insured  their 
rapid  spread. 

Now,  the  very  nature  of  the  work  Miss  Dix  was  thus 
opening  up  involved  that  she,  a  lone  and  unprotected 
woman,  should  penetrate  every  quarter  where  an  alms- 
house  was  to  be  inspected  or  an  abuse  ferreted  out. 
When  not  stopping  over  at  any  State  capital  during 
a  session  of  the  legislature,  she  must  keep  herself  in- 
defatigably  at  her  task  of  massing  an  amount  of  eye- 
witness evidence,  at  once  so  exact  that  none  could 
gainsay  it,  and  so  moving  in  its  appeal  for  redress 
that  the  most  hardened  and  selfish  alone  could  resist 
it.  Of  the  large  number  of  Memorials  she  was  to 


126  •       LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

write  and  bring  before  various  legislatures,  —  Memo- 
rials, to  the  ability,  eloquence,  and  judgment  of  which 
no  less  a  man  than  the  celebrated  Chancellor  Kent 
paid  the  highest  tribute  of  praise,  —  each  had  to  be  a 
separate  work,  with  its  own  local  coloring.  Kentucky 
did  not  concern  itself  with  the  state  of  things  in  Ten- 
nessee, nor  Tennessee  with  that  in  Kentucky.  The 
States  were  sovereign.  Thus,  in  the  presence  of  each 
new  legislative  David  must  she  stand  up  with  the 
commanding  authority  of  a  fresh  Nathan,  to  point  the 
finger  and  cry,  "  Thou  art  the  man !" 

Of  course,  the  amount  of  labor,  physical,  mental, 
and  emotional,  involved  in  conducting  these  cam- 
paigns—  and  no  other  word  but  "campaigns"  can  ade- 
quately characterize  them  —  was  enormous.  And  so, 
the  question  of  her  habits,  and  manner  of  economizing 
her  forces  becomes  a  highly  interesting  one,  as  always 
in,  the  case  of  those  who  accomplish  great  results. 

Miss  Dix  was  one  more  illustration  of  the  so  com- 
mon saying  that  "  the  work  of  the  world  is  done  by 
its  invalids."  Like  all  such  sayings,  this  especial  one 
has  truth  enough  in  it  to  make  it  worthy  of  serious 
thought.  Again  and  again  in  the  world's  history  has 
it  turned  out  that  it  is  the  General  Wolfe,  consumed 
with  the  hectic  fever  of  the  last  stages  of  consumption, 
who  scales  the  Heights  of  Abraham  and  takes  Que- 
bec ;  the  Dr.  Elisha  Kent  Kane,  who,  sentenced  to 
death  by  his  physicians,  but  resolved  to  "  die  in  har- 
ness," goes  farther  than  any  of  his  day  toward  pene- 
trating the  ice  barriers  of  the  North  Pole ;  the  Dar- 
win, economizing  his  intervals  of  ten  minutes'  relief 
from  suffering,  who  leads  the  van  of  the  naturalists  of 
Europe  in  solving  the  problem  of  the  origin  of  species. 
Nor  is  the  reason  —  a  high  endowment  of  ability  once 


"IN  JOURNEYINGS  OFTEN."  127 

allowed  for  —  so  far  to  seek.  It  is  as  simple,  in  fact, 
as  the  question  why  an  engine  of  ten  horse-power, 
its  piston-rod  packed  tight  and  its  valves  fitting  with 
precision,  is  capable  of  as  much  work  as  an  engine 
of  twenty  horse-power,  its  draught  choked  with  soot 
and  its  cylinders  leaking  steam  at  every  joint.  The 
superb  dower  of  physical  life,  nine  tenths  of  which 
a  giant,  like  Daniel  Webster,  uses  up  in  digesting 
enormous  dinners,  washed  down  by  copious  draughts 
of  wine,  and  in  the  excessive  amount  of  outdoor  exer- 
cise requisite  to  enabling  him  to  accomplish  the  feat, 
is  found  in  the  end  to  yield  no  more  available  work- 
ing force  than  these  careful  invalids,  consecrated  to 
arms,  science,  or  humanity,  manage  to  wrest  from  the 
wreck  of  their  lungs,  nerves,  or  digestion. 

This  lesson  of  the  wise  economy  of  her  strength 
Miss  Dix  had  now  mastered,  as  far  as  it  ever  is  mas- 
tered by  natures  consumed  by  such  passion  of  self-sac- 
rifice. She  suffered  no  social  engagements  to  divert 
her  from  her  chosen  object.  Her  business  habits  were 
prompt  and  accurate,  and  no  arrears  of  correspond- 
ence were  allowed  to  accumulate.  Relief  from  over- 
strain of  sympathy,  in  such  constant  familiarity  with 
misery  and  degradation,  she  sought  in  an  unfailing 
delight  in  nature,  in  the  keen  interest  she  always  kept 
up  in  botanical  study,  as  well  as  through  that  habitual 
devout  communion  with  God  which  was  to  her  per- 
petual invigoration  and  peace. 

Thus,  while  her  friends  were  in  constant  fear  of  her 
succumbing  in  some  lonely  place,  she  always  contrived 
to  go  to  the  very  verge  of  self-destruction,  without 
falling  over  the  edge;  illustrating  in  her  own  pe- 
culiar way  the  words  o£  St.  Paul,  "as  dying,  and 
behold  we  live."  Somewhere  in  her  constitution  there 


128  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

must  have  been  a  most  tenacious  fibre.  Again  and 
again,  in  those  days,  was  she  attacked  with  hemor- 
rhage, again  and  again  prostrated  with  malarial  fever. 
Indeed,  as  her  lifelong  friend,  Dr.  Charles  H.  Nichols, 
of  the  Bloomingdale  Asylum  of  New  York,  said  of 
her,  "  her  system  became  actually  saturated  with  mala- 
ria." And  yet  her  brain  never  yielded.  Throughout 
her  long  life  she  never  knew  the  meaning  of  a  head- 
ache. Meanwhile,  she  exercised  a  certain  prudence  of 
her  own.  Whenever,  in  the  midst  of  her  most  exact- 
ing labors,  she  found  herself  in  a  position  where  the 
force  of  flood  or  washout  proved  too  much  even  for 
her  indomitable  resolve  to  press  forward,  she  would 
take  continuously  to  her  bed,  and  store  up  sleep 
enough  —  sometimes  thirteen  to  sixteen  hours  on  a 
stretch  —  to  tide  her  over  the  next  two  or  three  nights 
of  jolting  in  wretched  vehicles  over  corduroy  roads. 
Indeed,  these  chance  opportunities  of  indulging  in 
protracted  sleep  she  seems  always  to  have  regarded  in 
the  same  light  in  which  devout  Roman  Catholics  look 
upon  the  "  superfluous  merits  of  the  saints,"  namely, 
as  a  sacred  storehouse  on  which  to  draw  for  the 
benefit  of  the  shortcomings  of  many  an  evil  day  and 
night. 

The  excellent  military  practice  of  always  carrying 
along  with  each  piece  of  artillery  an  extra  wheel,  to- 
gether with  a  due  store  of  subsidiary  traces,  linchpins, 
rammers,  and  repairing  tools,  was,  moreover,  one 
which  —  as  far  as  was  possible  in  the  case  of  a  lone 
woman,  with  a  limited  supply  of  hand-baggage  —  Miss 
Dix  now  sedulously  adopted  on  all  her  journeys. 
Southern  roads  were  then  well  nigh  as  destructive  to 
wheels  and  harness  as  the  average  fire  of  an  enemy's 
battery  in  time  of  war.  Many  the  occasion  of  wrench 


"IN  JOURNEYINGS  OFTEN."  129 

or  break  befalling  her  wagon,  on  which  she  was  forced 
to  dismount  into  deep  mud  and  under  a  drenching 
rain,  only  to  find  that  her  shiftless  negro  driver  was 
without  the  simplest  means  of  repairing  the  damage. 
Extra  wheels  and  axles,  indeed,  it  was  beyond  her 
power  to  supply  from  her  private  stores,  but,  one  or 
two  such  experiences  encountered  and  laid  to  heart, 
she  ever  after  made  a  practice  of  carrying  with  her  an 
outfit  of  hammer,  wrench,  nails,  screws,  a  coil  of  rope, 
and  straps  of  stout  leather,  which  under  many  a  mis- 
hap sufficed  to  put  things  to  rights  and  enable  her  to 
pursue  her  journey. 

It  could  be  wished  that  more  incidents  illustrative 
of  these  ventures  by  flood  and  field  had  been  preserved 
for  record.  An  invincible  reticence  on  the  part  of 
Miss  Dix  prevented  her  talking  about  herself,  and  she 
was,  moreover,  too  constantly  worn  out  with  her  work 
to  have  freshness  enough  left  for  picturesque  narra- 
tion. Her  letters  of  this  period  to  friends  are  largely 
simple  itineraries  to  acquaint  them  with  her  where- 
abouts, and  are  written  by  snatches  on  steamboats 
and  trains,  in  stations  and  post  offices,  or  while  sitting 
on  a  stump  awaiting  repairs  on  a  broken  carriage,  with 
tools  furnished  out  of  her  own  workshop.  Here  there 
is  a  brief  record,  "  Cholera  on  board ;  "  here  a  letter 
headed  "Stuck  fast  on  a  mud-bar  ten  miles  below 
Vicksburg ;  "  here  another,  "  Up  again  from  malarial 
fever;  off  for  Jackson,  Miss.,  to-night."  At  times, 
perhaps,  she  will  condescend  to  enlarge  more  fully  on 
a  river  ford,  —  a  natural  phenomenon  for  which,  no 
doubt  on  sufficient  grounds  of  chills  and  fever,  she 
seems  to  have  entertained  an  especial  aversion,  as  in 
the  following  extract :  — 


130  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"  I  have  encountered  nothing  so  dangerous  as  river  fords. 
I  crossed  the  Yadkin  where  it  was  three  fourths  of  a  mile 
wide,  rough  bottom,  often  in  places  rapid  currents  ;  the 
water  always  up  to  the  bed  of  the  carriage,  and  sometimes 
flowing  in.  The  horses  rested  twice  on  sand-bars.  A  few 
miles  beyond  the  river,  having  just  crossed  a  deep  branch 
two  hundred  yards  wide,  the  axletree  of  the  carriage  broke, 
and  away  rolled  one  of  the  back  wheels." 

One  highly  interesting  incident,  however,  has  been 
preserved,  which  would  no  doubt  serve  as  an  example 
of  many  another  experience,  not  in  all  probability 
alike  in  kind,  but  still  quite  as  illustrative  of  her  cou- 
rageous character.  The  version  of  it  here  given  first 
appeared  in  print  in  the  Greenville  (S.  C.)  "  Patriot," 
and  as  it  was  sent,  in  slip,  by  Miss  Dix  to  her  bosom 
friend,  Miss  Anne  E.  Heath,  has  thus  her  own  indorse- 
ment. The  date  of  the  occurrence  was  unquestionably 
several  years  later  than  the  period  of  her  career  we 
are  now  engaged  on,  but,  while  describing  the  nature 
of  her  lonely  and  exposed  journeyings,  this  seems  the 
most  appropriate  place  in  which  to  introduce  it :  — 

"Ax   INTERESTING   INCIDENT. 

"  The  other  day,  in  conversation  with  Miss  Dix,  the  phi- 
lanthropist, during  her  visit  to  Greenville,  a  lady  said  to  her, 
'  Are  you  not  afraid  to  travel  all  over  the  country  alone,  and 
have  you  not  encountered  dangers  and  been  in  perilous 
situations  ?  ' 

"  *  I  am  naturally  timid,'  said  Miss  Dix,  »'  and  diffident, 
like  all  my  sex ;  but  in  order  to  carry  out  my  purposes,  I 
know  that  it  is  necessary  to  make  sacrifices  and  encounter 
dangers.  It  is  true,  I  have  been,  in  my  travels  through 
the  different  States,  in  perilous  situations.  I  will  mention 
one  which  occurred  in  the  State  of  Michigan.  I  had  hired 
a  carriage  and  driver  to  convey  me  some  distance  through 


"IN  JOURNEYINGS  OFTEN."  131 

an  uninhabited  portion  of  the  country.  In  starting,  I  dis- 
covered that  the  driver,  a  young  lad,  had  a  pair  of  pistols 
with  him.  Inquiring  what  he  was  doing  with  arms,  he  said 
he  carried  them  to  protect  us,  as  he  had  heard  that  rob- 
beries had  been  committed  on  our  road.  I  said  to  him, 
"  Give  me  the  pistols,  —  I  will  take  care  of  them."  He 
did  so,  reluctantly. 

"  '  In  pursuing  our  journey  through  a  dismal-looking  forest, 
a  man  rushed  into  the  road,  caught  the  horse  by  the  bridle, 
and  demanded  my  purse.  I  said  to  him,  with  as  much  self- 
possession  as  I  could  command,  "  Are  you  not  ashamed  to 
rob  a  woman  ?  I  have  but  little  money,  and  that  I  want  to 
defray  my  expenses  in  visiting  prisons  and  poorhouses,  and 
occasionally  in  giving  to  objects  of  charity.  If  you  have 
been  unfortunate,  are  in  distress  and  in  want  of  money,  I 
will  give  you  some."  While  thus  speaking  to  him  I  discov- 
ered his  countenance  changing,  and  he  became  deathly  pale. 
"  My  God,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  voice  !  "  and  immediately 
told  me  that  he  had  been  in  the  Philadelphia  penitentiary 
and  had  heard  me  lecturing  to  some  of  the  prisoners  in  an 
adjoining  cell,  and  that  he  now  recognized  my  voice.  He 
then  desired  me  to  pass  on,  and  expressed  deep  sorrow  at 
the  outrage  he  had  committed.  But  I  drew  out  my  purse, 
and  said  to  him,  "  I  will  give  you  something  to  support  you 
until  you  can  get  into  honest  employment."  He  declined,  at 
first,  taking  anything,  until  I  insisted  on  his  doing  so,  for 
fear  he  might  be  tempted  to  rob  some  one  else  before  he 
could  get  into  honest  employment.' 

"  Had  not  Miss  Dix  taken  posession  of  the  pistols,  in  all 
probability  they  would  have  been  used  by  her  driver,  and 
perhaps  both  of  them  murdered.  That  voice  was  more 
powerful  in  subduing  the  heart  of  a  robber  than  the  sight  of 
a  brace  of  pistols." 

When  it  is  recalled  that,  no  farther  back  than 
March,  1841,  Miss  Dix's  friend,  Kev.  John  T.  G. 
Nichols,  had  expressed  serious  fears  of  a  person  in 


132  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

such  feeble  health  so  much  as  taking  charge  of  a  Sun- 
day-school class  in  the  East  Cambridge  jail,  the  results 
accomplished  before  the  close  of  1845  seem  well-nigh 
miraculous.  In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  of  Liver- 
pool, they  were  summed  up  by  her  in  the  following 
words : — 

"I  have  traveled  more  than  ten  thousand  miles  in  the 
last  three  years.  Have  visited  eighteen  State  penitentiaries, 
three  hundred  county  jails  and  houses  of  correction,  more 
than  five  hundred  almshouses  and  other  institutions,  besides 
hospitals  and  houses  of  refuge.  I  have  been  so  happy  as  to 
promote  and  secure  the  establishment  of  six1  hospitals  for 
the  insane,  several  county  poorhouses,  and  several  jails  on  a 
reformed  plan." 

It  seems  only  natural,  then,  that  her  happiness 
should  find  such  expression  as  in  the  following  extract 
from  a  letter,  written  on  board  a  steamboat  on  the 
Ohio  River,  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Hare,  of  Philadel- 
phia :  — 

"I  have  had  some  of  the  most  delightful  evidences  of 
good  accomplishing,  and  to  be  done,  the  past  week.  I  am 
very  happy,  and  wonder,  while  such  holy  rewards  reach  me 

1  The  six  insane  asylums  to  which  Miss  Dix  refers  were  the 
Worcester,  Mass.,  Asylum,  greatly  enlarged ;  the  Butler  Asylum,  in 
Providence,  R.  L,  practically  refounded ;  the  Trenton  and  the  Harris- 
burg  Asylums,  her  own  outright  creation ;  the  Utica,  N.  Y.,  Asylum, 
doubled  in  size. 

To  these  is  to  be  added  the  name  of  another,  outside  the  territory 
of  the  United  States,  in  Toronto,  Canada  West.  As  early  as  1843, 
she  had  memorialized  the  "  Provincial  Parliament  of  Canada  East 
and  West  Assembled,"  and  had  enlisted  the  energetic  interest  of  the 
governor  and  other  leading  authorities  in  her  scheme.  Sir  Charles 
Metcalfe  wrote  her  that,  but  for  her  efforts  and  labors  there,  "  Can- 
ada West  would  still  have  long  needed  a  hospital  for  the  insane."  Of 
her  work,  also,  in  procuring  the  reformation  of  jails  and  almshouses, 
Horace  Mann  said  that  it  would  make  as  wonderful  a  record  as  her 
more  especial  work  in  behalf  of  the  insane. 


"IN  JOURNEYING^   OFTEN."  133 

for  effort  and  sacrifice,  I  should  ever  find  myself  faltering, 
or  sighing  for  the  life  of  repose,  which,  in  the  distance, 
seems  to  me  so  attractive." 

And  yet,  as  this  narrative  proceeds,  it  will  be  seen 
that  this  was  as  yet  but  the  "  day  of  small  things  " 
with  her. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

• 

"  VENI,  VIDI,   VICI !  " 

THE  campaign,  or  rather  series  of  campaigns,  which, 
for  the  next  nine  years,  were  to  engage  Miss  Dix, 
promised  to  call  for  all  her  resources.  They  involved 
nothing  less  than  carrying  the  legislatures  of  Indiana, 
Illinois,  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  Missouri,  Mississippi, 
Louisiana,  Alabama,  South  Carolina,  North  Carolina, 
and  Maryland,  besides  the  establishment  of  two  en- 
tirely new  asylums  in  the  British  Provinces, — the  one 
at  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  the  other  at  St.  John,  New- 
foundland. Fortunately,  there  have  been  preserved 
letters  of  various  dates  during  those  nine  years,  which 
will  help  to  illustrate  the  spirit  and  success  of  her 
undertakings. 

Nothing,  it  is  said,  tends  to  develop  so  swiftly  in 
reluctant  minds  a  sense  of  personal  responsibility  as 
boldly  and  suddenly  thrusting  responsibility  on  them. 
Certainly,  of  this  kind  of  tactics  a  striking  instance  is 
given  in  the  ensuing  letter  of  Miss  Dix  to  Mrs.  Hare, 
of  Philadelphia :  — 

"  RALEIGH,  N.  C.,  November  27, 1848. 

"  They  say,  '  Nothing  can  be  done  here  ! '  I  reply,  *  I 
know  no  such  word  in  the  vocabulary  I  adopt  I '  It  is  de- 
clared that  no  word  will  be  uttered  in  opposition  to  my 
claims,  but  that  the  Democrats,  having  banded  as  a  party  to 
vote  for  nothing  that  involves  expense,  will  unite  and  si- 
lently vote  down  the  bill.  A  motion  was  made  to  order 


"VENI,   VWly  VICl!"  135 

lighting  the  lamps  in  the  portico  of  the  Capitol,  and  voted 
down  by  the  Democrats.  '  Ye  love  darkness  because  your 
deeds  are  evil ! '  said  a  Whig,  in  great  ire ;  and  a  voice 
from  the  gallery  responded  piously,  'For  ye  are  of  your 
father,  the  Devil ! ' 

"  This  morning  after  breakfast  several  gentlemen  called, 
all  Whigs,  talked  of  the  hospital,  and  said  the  most  discour- 
aging things  possible.  I  sent  for  the  leading  Democrats; 
went  to  my  room  and  brought  my  Memorial,  written  under 
the  exhaustion  of  ten  weeks'  most  fatiguing  journeys  and 
labors.  '  Gentlemen,'  I  said,  '  here  is  the  document  I  have 
prepared  for  your  assembly.  I  desire  you,  sir,  to  present 
it/  handing  it  to  a  Democrat  popular  with  his  party,  '  and 
you,  gentlemen,'  I  said,  turning  to  the  astonished  delega- 
tion, *  you,  I  expect,  will  sustain  the  motion  this  gentleman 
will  make  to  print  the  same.' 

"  They  took  leave,  I  do  sincerely  think,  fully  believing  in 
a  failure,  but  I  thought  I  could  not  have  canvassed  the 
State  for  nothing.  So  the  result  proved.  The  Memorial 
was  presented  ;  the  motion  to  print  twelve  extra  copies  for 
each  member  was  offered  and  passed  without  one  dissenting 
vote.  These  steps  are,  then,  safely  and  successfully  made. 
The  deep  waters  are  yet  to  pass,  but 

'  My  heart  is  fixed,  and  fixed  my  eye, 

And  I  am  girded  for  the  race ; 
The  Lord  is  strong,  and  I  rely 
On  his  assisting  grace.'  " 

Deep  waters  were  there  always  to  pass  before  bills, 
demanding  such  large  appropriations,  present  and 
prospective,  could  be  carried  triumphantly  through. 
To  persuade  a  party  so  bent  on  illustrating  its  ten- 
der sympathy  with  its  constituents'  hatred  of  tax-bills 
as  to  forbid  so  much  as  lighting  the  lamps  in  the  por- 
tico of  the  State  Capitol,  —  to  persuade  such  a  party 
of  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  the  act  of  lighting,  and 
feeding  forever  after  with  costly  oil,  a  lamp  of  sacri- 


136  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

fice  which  has  ever  since  burned  with  such  beneficent 
ray  as  the  Raleigh  Insane  Asylum,  was  no  task  to  be 
accomplished  without  a  world  of  anxiety  and  toil. 
Towards  this  great  feat  she  was  effectively  helped  by 
the  eloquent  plea  of  Hon.  James  C.  Dobbin,  made,  as 
has  already  been  stated,  in  response  to  the  entreaty  of 
his  dying  wife  that  he  would  champion  the  cause  of 
the  woman  who  had  so  tenderly  cared  for  her.  By 
the  close,  therefore,  of  December,  1848,  Miss  Dix 
could  enthusiastically  write  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Hare : 

"  Rejoice,  rejoice  with  me !  Through  toil,  anxiety,  and 
tribulation,  my  bill  has  passed :  101  ayes,  10  nays.  I  am 
not  well,  though  perfectly  happy.  I  leave  North  Carolina 
compensated  a  thousand  fold  for  all  labors  by  this  great 
success." 

The  following  autumn  and  winter  of  1849  found 
Miss  Dix  in  Montgomery,  Ala.,  arduously  engaged 
in  trying  to  carry  the  State  Legislature.  There,  after 
a  beginning  made  under  the  most  favorable  auspices, 
a  series  of  delays  and  disappointments  set  in,  finally 
brought  to  a  climax  by  the  conflagration  of  the  State 
Capitol.  A  panic  in  favor  of  retrenchment  at  once 
ensued,  and  the  year's  work  seemed  lost.  Sadly,  but 
courageously,  she  was  forced  to  write  to  her  friend, 
Miss  Heath :  — 

"  My  affairs  were  in  full  tide  of  prosperous  action,  when 
the  disastrous  conflagration  of  the  State  Capitol  threw  every- 
thing into  indescribable  confusion.  I  have  determined,  as 
an  adjournment  is  had  till  New  Year,  to  save  time  by  going 
at  once  to  fulfill  some  objects  at  Selma,  Mobile,  New  Or- 
leans, and  Jackson,  Miss.  I  have  recollected  amidst  these 
perplexities  that  God  requires  no  more  to  be  accomplished 
than  He  gives  time  for  performing,  and  I  turn  now  more 
quietly  to  my  work  up  the  Hill  Difficulty.  The  summit  is 


"YEN I,    VI DI,  VI CI!"  137 

cloud-capped,  but  I  have  passed  amidst  dark  and    rough 
ways  before,  and  shall  not  now  give  out." 

By  the  opening  of  the  new  session,  however,  January 
1, 1850,  she  was  back  again  at  her  post  in  Montgomery. 
Once  again  was  the  Hill  Difficulty  to  prove  insur- 
mountable. The  State  was  in  no  mood  for  increased 
appropriations,  and,  though  stanch  friends  stood  by 
her,  the  conflagration  had  given  an  impulse  to  the 
cry  for  retrenchment  which  even  her  energy  could  not 
make  head  against.  In  a  weary  hour  she  wrote  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Hare  :  — 

"  I  think,  after  this  year,  I  shall  certainly  not  suffer  my- 
self to  engage  in  any  legislative  affairs  for  a  year.  I  can 
conceive  the  state  of  mind  which  this  induces  to  be  like 
nothing  save  the  influences  of  the  gambling  table,  or  any 
games  of  chance,  —  on  such  unlooked-for,  and  often  trivial, 
balances  do  the  issues  depend.  There  is  just  one  chance  in 
a  hundred  that  my  bill  will  pass." 

And  yet,  spite  of  her  feeling  of  disappointment, 
Miss  Dix's  faithful  and  untiring  work  had  really  car- 
ried the  day  in  Alabama.  Not  during  the  session  of 
1850  was  her  bill  to  triumph,  but  in  that  of  1851-52 
it  went  successfully  through.  Touched  with  her  de- 
votion, the  Alabama  State  Medical  Association  now 
came  to  the  rescue,  appointing  a  special  committee  to 
follow  up  the  strong  impressions  already  made,  and 
placing  at  the  head  of  this  committee  Dr.  Lopez, 
a  man  after  her  own  heart,  who  labored  with  such 
earnestness  through  the  ensuing  session  that  an  appro- 
priation of  1100,000  was  finally  secured,  and,  after 
this  was  exhausted,  one  of  $150,000  more. 

Scarcely  a  month,  however,  after  the  weary  and 
baffled  letter  in  which  Miss  Dix  had  compared  the 


138  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

anxieties  and  vicissitudes  of  legislative  affairs  with 
the  "  influences  of  the  gambling  table,"  there  came  a 
happy  turn  of  the  wheel  of  fortune  through  the  course 
of  events  in  the  neighboring  State  of  Mississippi, 
which  called  out  the  following  rejoicing  letter  to  Miss 
Heath :  — 

"  Twenty-four  majority  in  the  Senate,  and  eighty-one  in 
the  House,  was  something  of  a  conquest  over  prejudice  and 
the  positive  declaration  and  determination  not  to  give  a 
dime!  Therefore,  to  give  $50,000  and  3,000,000  brick, 
besides  the  farm  and  foundations  of  the  structure,  is  no 
small  matter.  Great  was  my  surprise  at  the  really  beauti- 
ful vote  of  thanks,  first  by  the  legislature,  then  by  the  com- 
missioners, and,  finally,  by  the  citizens.  Legislature,  com- 
missioners, and  citizens  alike  insisted  on  naming  the  hospital 
after  me." 

This  last  tribute  of  honor  to  her  name,  however, 
Miss  Dix,  on  this  as  on  so  many  other  occasions, 
positively  refused.  The  Speaker,  in  reply,  informed 
her  that,  in  deference  to  her  views,  the  legislature  had 
agreed  to  suspend  immediate  action,  but  added  that 
"that  was  all  Mississippians  would  concede  on  this 
point  to  one  who  belonged  to  the  country,  and  was 
honored  by  all." 

The  letter,  written  from  some  unnamed  point  on 
the  Mississippi,  from  which  the  last  extract  is  made, 
contains  likewise  a  picturesque  sketch  illustrative  of 
the  peculiar  exposures  to  which  travelers  on  river 
boats  were  in  those  days  subjected. 

"We  have  on  our  boat  [she  says]  both  cholera  and 
malignant  scarlet  fever.  To  add  to  our  various  incidents,  a 
quantity  of  gunpowder  was  left  in  charge  of  a  raw  Irish- 
man, who  was  directed,  at  a  given  time  and  place,  to  load 
the  cannon  and  fire  a  salute.  One  hundred  miles  away 


"  VENl,    V1DL,  V1C1!"  139 

from  the  point  to  be  so  honored,  Pat,  thinking  the  bore  of 
the  cannon  as  good  a  place  of  deposit  for  the  powder  as  he 
could  find,  rammed  it  down.  Then  discovering  that  the 
rain  had  wet  the  bore,  he  ran  with  alacrity  to  the  furnace 
and  returned  with  a  burning  stick,  thrusting  it  in  after  the 
powder,  'to  dry  up  the  wather.'  This  it  effected;  but  not 
this  alone,  for  of  course  the  powder  exploded,  and  certain 
portions  of  Pat's  arm  and  hand  were  sent  in  advance  toward 
the  distant  city." 

Who  took  care  of  poor  Pat  and  dressed  his  wounds 
the  letter  does  not  say.  Ten  to  one,  it  was  Miss  Dix 
herself.  The  last  thing,  with  truth,  that  could  have 
been  urged  in  her  case  was  the  so  common  reproach 
brought  against  philanthropists,  that,  while  full  of 
tenderness  for  humanity  in  the  mass,  they  are  indif- 
ferent toward  individuals ;  or,  as  Dean  Swift  wittily 
puts  it,  that,  while  loving  the  race,  they  do  not  care  a 
ha'penny  for  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry.  Indeed,  there 
exists  an  amusing  letter  from  her  lifelong  friend, 
Dr.  William  G.  Eliot,  of  St.  Louis,  in  which  he 
comments  on  the  unerring  instinct  with  which,  on 
boarding  a  train  or  steamboat,  she  was  sure,  by  a  kind 
of  freemasonry,  to  detect  any  case  of  illness,  poverty, 
or  bereavement,  and  before  long  to  be  found  minister- 
ing to  it.  The  letter,  though  written  at  a  later  date, 
and  at  the  time  when  Dr.  Eliot  was  himself  engrossed 
in  completing  the  endowment  of  Washington  Univer- 
sity, St.  Louis,  —  that  monument  to  his  own  persistency 
and  self -sacrifice,  —  certainly  lights  up  the  subject  in 
hand  by  an  individual  contribution  to  New  Testament 
interpretation,  not  to  be  found  in  any  of  the  standard 
commentaries. 

"I  often  think  [he  says]  of  your  thoughtful  care  of 
that  forlorn  woman  in  the  cars.  It  was  a  rebuke  to  me.  I 


140  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

can  spend  or  be  spent  for  an  institution  or  for  humanity ; 
but  if  I  had  seen  the  '  certain  man  between  Jerusalem  and 
Jericho,'  I  should  have  been  the  priest  or  Levite.  Perhaps 
they  were  at  work  for  something  on  a  large  scale,  and  could 
not  see  the  small;  or  perhaps  they  had  no  relish  for  char- 
ity in  detail." 

In  fact,  while  on  this  especial  subject,  it  may  be 
well  enough  to  note  here  that  so  numerous  were  the 
instances  Miss  Dix  encountered  on  trains  and  steam- 
boats, not  merely  of  the  sufferings,  but  of  the  follies 
and  perversities,  of  human  beings,  that,  dignified  and 
reticent  as  was  her  habitual  demeanor,  she  at  times 
would  speak  her  mind  with  a  freedom  that  created  a 
marked  sensation.  Once,  for  example,  three  young 
ladies,  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  fashion,  boarded  the 
train.  It  was  at  that  especial  epoch  in  the  natural 
history  of  woman  which  may  be  accurately  enough 
described  as  the  "  wasp-waist  period ; "  when,  in  hum- 
ble imitation  of  that  selected  insect,  to  reduce  to  the 
last  degree  of  tenuity  the  slight  film  of  connection 
needful  for  self-preservation  between  the  thoracic  and 
the  abdominal  regions  of  the  human  body  seemed  to 
many  young  maidens  the  "  chief  end  of  man."  The 
fashion  was  one  Miss  Dix  held  in  peculiar  abhorrence, 
her  own  studies  in  physiology  having  apparently  in- 
spired her  with  an  intellectual  respect  so  profound 
for  the  functions  of  heart,  lungs,  liver,  and  digestive 
organs  that  she  could  no  more  tolerate  the  thought  of 
their  cruel  imprisonment  in  the  steel  cage  of  a  bind- 
ing corset  than  that  of  the  outraged  insane  in  their 
own  cages.  Now,  it  so  happened  that  on  a  seat  not 
far  from  the  part  of  the  car  in  which  the  three  fash- 
ionably dressed  young  ladies  had  placed  themselves 
was  a  fourth  young  woman,  whose  ideas  on  the  subject 


"VENI,  VWI,   V1CL!"  141 

of  the  human  waist  evidently  coincided  more  nearly 
with  the  antiquated  and  exploded  notions  of  the  Venus 
of  Milo.  She  became  at  once  an  object  of  ridicule  to 
her  more  advanced  sisters,  who  talked  her  over  with 
an  unrestrained  freedom  which  excited  indignation 
on  all  sides.  "  Better  be  dead  than  out  of  fashion  !  " 
finally  exclaimed  one  of  the  three.  Miss  Dix  could 
endure  their  insolence  no  longer,  and,  suddenly  rising, 
interposed  with  her  rich,  impressive  voice,  "  My  dear, 
if  you  lace  as  tight  as  you  do  now,  you  will  not  long 
have  the  privilege  of  the  choice.  You  will  be  both 
dead  and  out  of  fashion." 

To  return,  however,  from  this  digression  to  the  series 
of  campaigns  Miss  Dix  was  through  those  nine  years 
engaged  with,  principally  in  the  Southern  and  Middle 
States  of  the  Union. 

It  had  become  her  habit  to  work  from  the  late 
autumn  till  advancing  spring  in  the  South,  and,  when 
the  heat  grew  too  overpowering,  to  transfer  her  field 
of  activity  to  more  northern  regions.  As  far  to  the 
northeast  as  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  and  St.  John,  New- 
foundland, do  we,  accordingly,  in  these  times  find  her. 
In  Halifax  especially  is  she  now,  year  by  year,  bend- 
ing all  her  energies  toward  the  foundation  of  a  cruelly 
needed  asylum.  While  zealously  seconded  in  her  ef- 
forts by  the  Bishop  of  Nova  Scotia,  it  was,  however, 
to  the  untiring  courage  and  devotion  of  Hon.  Hugh 
Bell  that  final  success  was  chiefly  due. 

Among  the  correspondence  left  behind  at  the  death 
of  Miss  Dix,  the  letters  of  this  humble-minded  but,  in 
every  fibre,  noble  man  afford  a  beautiful  picture  of 
a  true  friendship  in  the  spirit.  Of  great  practical 
ability,  and  thoroughly  versed  in  political  matters,  a 
tendency,  none  the  less,  to  despondency  was  a  marked 


142  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

characteristic  of  the  man,  and  to  Miss  Dix,  and  the 
sacred  work  she  had  put  into  his  hands,  he  felt  he 
owed  a  happier  trust  in  God  and  faith  in  human 
nature.  His  moral  admiration  for  her  was  unbounded. 
Again  and  again  he  attests  how  her  inspiration  had 
made  life  worth  living  to  him,  through  lifting  it  to  a 
disinterested  aim.  She,  he  said,  was  "  Minerva,"  he 
"  Telemachus."  As,  therefore,  one  sure  test  of  the 
vitality  of  any  mind  is  its  power  to  raise  up  a  host  of 
co-workers,  infused  with  its  own  faith  and  will,  it  is 
here  to  the  point  to  present  a  few  extracts  from  these 
letters  of  Hon.  Hugh  Bell.  Only  through  the  medium 
of  such  living  records  can  any  fit  idea  be  gained 
alike  of  the  discouragements  attendant  on  such  work 
as  Miss  Dix  was  engaged  on,  in  communities  as  yet 
insensible  to  its  real  import,  and  of  the  nature  of  the 
happy  spiritual  relations  established  between  lofty 
minds  made  one  by  a  common  humane  aim. 

"  HALIFAX,  NOVA  SCOTIA,  April  3,  1850. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  inform  you  that  the  result  of 
your  efforts,  and  of  our  high  expectations  of  the  action  of 
our  Legislature,  has  ended  in  a  mere  compliment  to  you. 
However  just  and  however  sincere,  the  '  one  thing  need- 
ful '  would,  I  am  sure,  have  been  much  more  satisfactory  to 
you.  ...  I  fear  that  even  the  thunders  of  Demosthenes 
would  scarce  disturb  our  apathy  and  insensibility  respecting 
such  subjects." 

"  HALIFAX,  NOVA  SCOTIA,  August  10,  1850. 

"  As  to  the  final  accomplishment  of  our  object,  although 
I  must  approve  of  the  purpose  never  to  abandon  a  post 
undertaken  in  a  good  cause,  I  am  almost  like  the  Quaker 
who  said  to  his  traveling  companion,  when  in  circumstances 
of  danger,  '  I  must  go  by  thy  faith,  for  mine  is  gone  ! '  If 
there  be  a  final  triumph,  I  shall,  if  I  live,  rejoice  to  join  in 
the  song  of  victory,  and  to  aid  in  weaving  the  chaplet  around 


"VENI,  VIDI,  VICI!"  143 

your  brows.  Ridiculous  as  this  may  sound  now,  who  can 
tell  what  may  yet  be  done  !  '  Impossible  ! '  seems  to  be 
now  an  obsolete  term.  We  live  in  an  age  of  wonders." 

"  HALIFAX,  NOVA  SCOTIA,  July  5,  1853. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  noble-minded  and  generous  friend,  for 
your  kind,  encouraging  letter.  Your  vigorous,  unwavering 
faith  and  your  firm^  unflinching  resolution  shame  away 
doubt  and  inspire  confidence.  With  you  by  my  side  (like 
Minerva,  in  the  shape  of  Mentor,  by  the  side  of  Telema- 
chus),  even  I  would  become  courageous.  We  shall  con- 
quer yet!  Do  you  not  inwardly  chuckle  as  I  say  we? 
It  is  something  like  the  bellows-blower's  and  the  organist's 
'  Did  n't  we  do  well  ? '  Never  mind !  if  the  well  only 
comes.  No  matter  about  the  '  we ' !  " 

"  HALIFAX,  NOVA  SCOTIA,  August  4, 1853. 
"  I  called  on  the  Admiral  —  or  rather  at  the  Admiralty 
House  —  to  leave  my  card  for  the  Earl  of  Ellsmore  (as  in 
duty  bound).  The  old  Admiral  met  me  at  the  door  very 
cordially,  shook  hands,  and  then  said,  *  Where  is  Miss 
Dix  ? '  I  replied,  '  She  left  for  home  yesterday.  She  has 
been  to  Sable  Island  and  back ! '  He  exclaimed  in  true 
sailor  style,  *  She  's  a  gallant  woman  ! ' ' 

"  HALIFAX,  NOVA  SCOTIA, ,  1853. 

"  The  session  of  our  Legislature  closed  yesterday,  and  I 
hasten  to  inform  you  that  something  has  been  done  for  the 
object  of  our  long  and  earnest  effort :  £15,000,  equal  to 
$60,000,  has  been  appropriated,  with  the  condition  that 
£5,000  more  be  subscribed.  .  .  .  They  have  made  me, 
officially,  the  acting  and  chief  commissioner.  How  strangely 
and  unexpectedly  are  things  brought  about!  ...  I  am 
bound  in  gratitude  to  be  thankful  that  Providence  has 
blessed  my  humble  efforts  in  behalf  of  our  afflicted  fel- 
low beings,  but  I  feel  myself  so  totally  inadequate  as  to 
knowledge  of  the  right  and  best  way  of  proceeding  that  I 


144  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

shrink  from  it,  and  wish  it  were  in  abler  hands.  You  see 
how  much  I  need  your  aid.  May  I  expect  to  have  it  ?  I 
cannot  but  think  how  much  stronger  your  faith  was  than 
mine.  You  always  said  it  would  be  done.  I  confess  that 
I  had  given  up  hope,  during  my  life." 

A  few  instances  like  these  will  suffice  in  the  attempt 
to  record  the  series  of  moral  successes  achieved  by 
Miss  Dix  during  these  nine  memorable  years.  Tedi- 
ous to  the  reader  would  it  be  to  enlarge  on  them  sep- 
arately. Suffice  it  to  say,  that  each  succeeding  year 
witnessed  the  original  foundation  of  one  or  more  State 
asylums,  and  was  marked  by  public  votes  of  thanks 
from  fresh  legislatures,  and  by  letters  of  congratula- 
tion of  the  tenor  of  that  in  which  Dr.  E.  S.  Steuart, 
of  Baltimore,  wrote  her,  after  the  passage  of  her  bill 
in  Maryland :  "  Most  cordially  do  I  congratulate  you 
on  your  success,  because  I  am  well  convinced  that  no 
other  means  than  yours  could  have  produced  this  re- 
sult. I  am  glad  you  have  one  more  leaf  added  to  the 
chaplet  that  so  honorably  adorns  your  brow." 

Of  a  like  tenor  letters  by  the  score,  from  gov- 
ernors, members  of  legislatures,  and  associations  of 
physicians,  were  now  continually  pouring  in  upon  her 
from  all  quarters  of  the  Union.  "  We  can  do  nothing 
without  you  !  "  was  the  universal  cry.  Her  vitalized 
personality  withdrawn,  every  movement  languished  ; 
while,  as  soon  as  she  was  again  upon  the  spot,  the 
stragglers  hurried  back,  the  ranks  closed  up,  the  lead- 
ers headed  the  columns,  and  victory  ensued.  Confi- 
dently may  it  be  asserted  that  on  no  other  page  of  the 
annals  of  purely  merciful  reform  can  be  read  such  a 
series  of  moral  triumphs  over  apathy,  ignorance,  and 
cruel  neglect  as  were  in  that  space  of  time  won  by 
Miss  Dix.  Besides  the  memorable  list  of  previous 


"VENI,  VIDI,  VICI1"  145 

successes,  there  might  now  have  been  emblazoned  on 
her  battle  flag  of  humanity  the  names  of  Lexington, 
Kentucky  ;  Hopkinsville,  Kentucky  ;  Indianapolis,  In- 
diana ;  Jacksonville,  Illinois  ;  Fulton,  Missouri ;  Nash- 
ville, Tennessee  ;  Jackson,  Louisiana  ;  Raleigh,  North 
Carolina  ;  Jackson,  Mississippi ;  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama ; 
Baltimore,  Maryland;  Washington,  District  of  Co- 
lumbia ;  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia.  It  is  easy  to  repeat 
these  names,  harder  to  make  each  one  of  them  sum- 
mon before  the  mind's  eye  the  buildings,  farms,  pleas- 
ure-grounds, skilled  and  humane  supervision  of  a  great 
institution,  taking  into  its  protecting  arms  of  mercy 
such  numbers  of  the  most  wretched  and  abandoned  of 
earth's  creatures.  Still,  even  in  the  case  of  the  most 
sluggish  imagination,  it  cannot  be  difficult  to  rise  in 
partial  sympathy,  at  least,  with  the  enthusiasm  with 
which,  on  the  occasion  of  still  another  success  in  South 
Carolina,  that  profound  and  noble-minded  scholar, 
Dr.  Francis  Lieber,  wrote  to  Miss  Dix  from  Colum- 
bia, S.  C. :  — 

«TE   DEUM   LAUDAMUS! 

"  How  do  you  feel  ?  Like  a  general  after  a  victory  ?  Oh, 
no !  much  better.  Like  people  after  a  shipwreck  ?  You 
are  saving  thousands,  and  not  by  one  act,  but  by  planting 
institutions,  and  institutions  of  love.  And  when  man  does 
that,  he  comes  nearest  to  his  God  of  love  and  mercy. 

"  Deus  tibi  lux !  F.  L." 

Indeed,  at  this  period,  Miss  Dix  herself  looked  with 
a  not  unnatural  wonder,  mingled  with  devout  humility, 
on  the  unexampled  success  of  her  career.  She  rarely 
spoke  of  her  own  achievements  ;  but  in  a  letter  of 
June,  1850,  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Rathbone,  of  Liverpool, 
England,  there  occur  a  few  sentences  which  lift  the 


146  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

veil  of  her  habitual  reserve  and  admit  one  within  the 
sanctuary  of  her  inmost  feeling  :  — 

"  Shall  I  not  say  to  you,  dear  friend,  that  my  uniform 
success  and  influence  are  evidence  to  my  mind  that  I  am 
called  by  Providence  to  the  vocation  to  which  life,  talents, 
and  fortune  have  been  surrendered  these  many  years  ?  I 
cannot  say,  *  Behold,  now,  this  great  Babylon  which  I  have 
builded ! '  but  *  Lo  !  O  Lord,  the  work  which  Thou  gavest 
thy  servant ;  she  does  it,  and  God  in  his  benignity  blesses  and 
advances  the  cause  by  the  instrument  He  has  fitted  for  the 
labor.'  " 

After  the  record  of  such  a  series  of  achievements, 
and  before  farther  proceeding  with  the  story  of  the 
still  more  remarkable  triumphs  which  awaited  the  sub- 
ject of  this  biography  in  the  future,  it  seems  natural  to 
pause  here  a  moment,  to  try  in  some  way  to  grasp  the 
secret  of  her  power. 

Notwithstanding  all  her  virile  forces  of  intellect  and 
will,  the  ideas  entertained  by  Miss  Dix  on  the  subject 
of  woman's  work  or  woman's  sphere  of  influence  in  the 
world  were  at  this  period,  and  indeed  remained  to  the 
end  of  her  life,  of  a  character  that  would  in  these  days 
be  regarded  by  many  superior  women  as  decidedly 
conservative  and  of  the  old  school.  And  yet  in  them 
lay  the  hidingplace  of  the  peculiar  power  she  exerted 
in  the  Southern  and  Southwestern  States,  then  ruled 
by  an  ideal  of  womanhood  which  had  in  it  many  ele- 
ments handed  down  from  the  days  of  chivalry. 

Distinctly  and  emphatically,  Miss  Dix  believed  in 
woman's  keeping  herself  aloof  and  apart  from  any- 
thing savoring  of  ordinary  political  action,  as  equally 
from  every  desire  of  material  reward,  whether  in  the 
way  of  money,  place,  or  personal  distinction.  She 
must  be  the  incarnation  of  a  purely  disinterested  idea 


"VExr,  vwi,  vicf!"  147 

appealing  to  universal  humanity,  irrespective  of  party 
or  sect ;  at  once  a  voice  of  tender  supplication  for  the 
outcasts  of  the  earth  and  their  impassioned  champion, 
capable  of  flaming  with  sacred  fire.  From  large  num- 
bers of  the  politicians  with  whom  she  was  necessarily 
brought  into  close  contact,  carefully  as  she  hid  the 
feeling  from  them,  she  yet  shrank  with  a  distinct 
moral  repulsion.  "  They  are,"  she  declared,  "  the 
meanest  and  lowest  party  demagogues,  shocking  to 
say,  —  the  basest  characters." 

By  nature,  she  herself  was,  as  one  of  her  truest  and 
most  admiring  friends  said  of  her,  "  aristocratic  in 
every  fibre ;  "  that  is,  in  the  original  and  more  literal 
signification  of  the  word  as  emphasizing  faith  in  the 
divine  hierarchy  of  intellect,  heart,  and  conscience. 
Instinctively  she  craved  and  enjoyed  intercourse  with 
the  finer  and  higher  types  of  humanity,  and  drew  back 
in  sensitive  aversion  from  every  shape  of  ugliness,  vul- 
garity, and  self-seeking.  "  Anthophila,"  the  flower- 
lover,  was  the  Greek  name  with  which,  in  those  days, 
the  eminent  publicist,  Dr.  Francis  Lieber,  usually  ad- 
dressed her ;  and  the  name  held  true  not  merely  of 
her  love  of  flowers,  but  of  everything  characterized 
by  social  grace  and  refinement,  by  intellectual  dis- 
tinction, or  by  beauty  of  manners,  spirit,  and  charac- 
ter. This  side  of  her  nature  she  had  literally  to  cru- 
cify in  a  great  part  of  her  work.  A  Christlike  sense 
of  compassion  for  human  misery  and  of  fiery  indigna- 
tion at  the  infliction  of  pain ;  an  intense  intellectual 
revolt  from  the  brute  irrational  chaos  of  society  which, 
under  the  light  that  had  now  broken,  permitted  such 
evils  longer  to  exist,  —  these,  together  with  a  daily 
yearning  supplication,  "  Thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will 
be  done  on  the  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven,"  were 


148  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

the  only  powers  that  nerved  her  to  tolerate  perpetual 
contact  with  degraded  forms  of  misery,  and  with  a 
class  of  public  characters,  many  of  whom  were  offen- 
sive to  her  through  and  through. 

The  natural  result  of  this  position,  early  adopted 
and  inflexibly  adhered  to  by  Miss  Dix,  was  that,  es- 
pecially among  the  ardent  and  impulsive  peoples  of 
the  Southern  and  Southwestern  States,  she  gradually 
came  to  be  regarded  as  a  being  apart  from  ordinary 
humanity.  Very  striking  is  it  to  turn  over  old  files 
of  Tennessee,  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  other  Southern 
newspapers,  and  read  the  glowing  language  in  which 
they  speak  of  the  arrival  within  their  borders  of  that 
"  gracious  lady,"  that  "  crown  of  human  nature,"  that 
"  chosen  daughter  of  the  Kepublic,"  that  "  angel  of 
mercy." 

On  issues  aside  from  her  own  self -consuming  pas- 
sion she  was  careful  to  antagonize  no  one.  Even  on 
the  "  slavery  question,"  then  becoming  ever  more 
hotly  agitated,  and  awakening  the  fiercest  hatred 
against  all  who  belonged  to  the  North,  she  persistently 
held  her  peace.  What  her  view  and  action  on  the 
subject  would  have  been,  had  she  been  left  to  the 
natural  impulses  of  her  own  merciful  heart,  may  be 
readily  enough  inferred.  But  she  entered  the  South 
under  bonds  to  keep  the  peace,  —  bonds  not  personal 
and  selfish,  but  disinterested  and  sympathetic.  One 
word  from  her  lips  in  the  way  of  the  mildest  reproval, 
even,  and  every  State  south  of  the  Susquehanna  would 
have  been  sealed  to  her.  Her  word  would  have  ef- 
fected nothing ;  but  it  would  have  left  thousands  of 
forlorn  wretches  to  languish,  without  a  champion,  in 
cells  and  chains,  in  filth  and  misery.  No,  she  felt  she 
had  her  own  God-appointed  work,  so  vast  and  far- 
reaching  in  its  consequences  that  her  feeble  hands 


«VENl,  VTDI,  V1CI!"  149 

could  but  grasp  its  outermost  skirts.  In  a  very  literal 
sense  poor  Simmons's  God  had  become  passionately 
identified  with  her  own  God,  and  "  the  prayers  of 
agony  shrieked  from  his  dreary  abode  "  now  filled  her 
ears  till  she  could  hear  no  other  cry. 

A  letter  of  Dr.  Francis  Lieber,  written  as  far  back 
as  November  5.  1846,  from  Columbia,  S.  C.,  gives  ex- 
pression to  his  own  sense  of  the  unique,  moral,  and 
imaginative  position  occupied  by  Miss  Dix  in  the  work 
to  which  she  had  consecrated  her  life. 

"You  as  a  woman  [he  said]  have  a  great  advantage 
over  us,  for  with  the  firmness,  courage,  and  strength  of  a 
male  mind  you  unite  the  advantage  of  a  woman.  Savarin, 
at  the  head  of  the  French  police,  told  Napoleon,  with  ref- 
erence to  Mad.  de  Cayler,  that  he  could  not  master  the 
women.  This  was  in  a  bad  cause  ;  but  the  same  holds  good 
in  a  good.  You  do  not  excite  the  same  opposition  ;  no  one 
can  suspect  you  of  ambitious  party  views,  and  you  can  dare 
more  because  people  do  not  dare  to  refuse  you  many  a 
thing  they  would  not  feel  ashamed  of  refusing  to  any  one 
of  our  sex.  Therefore  take  care  of  yourself !  " 

How  strong,  indeed,  was  the  impression  at  this 
period  exerted  by  her  personality  on  a  mind  of  the 
range  of  Dr.  Lieber's,  is  manifest  in  the  language 
of  one  of  his  own  letters  to  George  S.  Hillard,  of 
Boston :  — 

"  Miss  Dix  has  been  with  us  again,  and  leaves  us  to- 
morrow. .  .  .  She  is  greatly  exhausted,  and  I  always  fear 
to  hear  that  she  has  succumbed  somewhere  in  a  lonely 
place.  What  a  heroine  she  is !  May  God  protect  her ! 
Over  the  whole  breadth  and  length  of  the  land  are  her  foot- 
steps, and  where  she  steps  flowers  of  the  richest  odor  of 
humanity  are  sprouting  and  blooming  as  on  an  angel's 
path.  I  have  the  highest  veneration  for  her  heart  and  will 
and  head." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   BURDEN    GROWING    HEAVIER. 

AMONG  the  inevitable  burdens  now  precipitated  on 
the  shoulders  of  a  woman  as  frail  in  body  as  Miss 
Dix,  no  slight  additional  an  one  grew  out  of  the  fact 
that  so  great  was  the  confidence  reposed  in  her  prac- 
tical ability  that  again  and  again,  after  having,  at  a 
great  tax  on  her  strength,  carried  a  bill  through  a 
legislature,  she  was  farther  urged  to  shoulder  the  re- 
sponsibility of  selecting  a  fit  site  for  the  projected  asy- 
lum, and  of  deciding  on  the  character  of  the  buildings 
to  be  erected.  It  was  a  task  she  was  unwilling  to 
decline,  for,  in  the  wide-spread  ignorance  prevailing 
in  those  days,  she  clearly  saw  how  easily  the  successful 
working  of  a  hospital  might  be  made  or  marred  by  the 
nature  of  its  location  or  its  plan  of  construction. 

In  fact,  a  hundred  questions  had  to  be  raised  and 
wisely  answered.  Was  the  soil  wet  or  dry,  was  it 
adapted  to  furnish  the  patients  with  fit  outdoor  work, 
was  there  an  abundant  supply  of  pure  water,  was 
there  due  variety  of  sunshine  and  shade,  was  the  loca- 
tion easily  accessible  by  rail  or  water  for  the  delivery 
of  fuel  and  provisions  ,  finally,  were  the  surroundings 
attractive  and  the  scenery  of  a  character  to  "  minis- 
ter," through  its  charm,  "  to  a  mind  diseased  "  ?  All 
these  were  problems  demanding  careful  observation,  and 
to  the  end  of  wisely  solving  them  Miss  Dix  kept  herself 
in  constant  touch  with  the  class  of  exceptionally  able 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER.  151 

experts  who,  as  superintendents,  were  now  steadily 
evolving  the  plans  which  for  a  period  of  many  years 
were  to  make  the  American  insane  asylums  the  model 
asylums  of  the  civilized  world. 

As  early  as  at  the  date,  in  1845,  of  her  success  in 
securing  the  foundation  of  a  hospital  at  Harrisburg, 
Penn.,  Mr.  James  Lesley  had  written  her :  — 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  to  Mr.  Trego,  as  to  all  the 
other  commissioners,  your  wishes  on  the  subject  of  site  and 
buildings  will  be  law.  He  declared  that  no  man  nor  woman 
other  than  yourself,  from  Maine  to  Louisiana,  could  have 
passed  the  bill  under  the  discouraging  circumstances  with 
which  you  had  to  contend." 

Of  the  delight,  indeed,  she  at  first  took  in  the  ad- 
ditional labor  thus  imposed  on  her  she  writes  in  a 
spirit  of  fairly  girlish  exuberance  to  her  friend,  Miss 
Heath :  - 

"  My  farm  is  much  liked,  and  it  would  not  be  surpris- 
ing if  I  should  throw  up  a  tabernacle  inwoven  with  green 
branches,  and  count  the  bricks  as  they  are  placed  one  upon 
another  till  the  fabric  be  complete." 

To  the  dew  and  freshness  of  the  early  morning, 
however,  there  inevitably  succeeds  the  heat  and  bur- 
den of  the  day,  and  this  contrasting  experience  Miss 
Dix  was  destined  to  encounter  in  many  trying  ways  as 
time  wore  on.  A  site  once  judiciously  chosen  for  the 
real  end  in  view,  then  too  often  began  the  worst  tug 
of  war. 

As  a  rule,  real-estate  transactions  react  hardly  more 
felicitously  in  bringing  out  the  higher  attributes  of 
human  nature  than,  as  is  traditionally  asserted,  does 
the  trading  of  horses.  Miss  Dix  naturally  wanted 
the  best  procurable  site  for  the  benefit  of  the  patients ; 


152  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

the  owner  of  the  site  wanted  the  best  procurable 
price  for  his  own  benefit.  Miss  Dix  did  her  best  to 
ignore  all  local  questions  of  the  town  or  county  that 
was  to  be  pecuniarily  helped  by  the  establishment  of 
an  asylum  within  its  borders ;  the  town  or  county, 
on  the  contrary,  did  its  best  to  have  this  made  the 
first  consideration.  Nor  was  this  all.  Rich  proprie- 
tors of  country-seats,  with  stronger  prejudices  against 
•"  madhouses  "  than  even  against  pauper  burial-fields, 
banded  together  with  all  the  power  of  wealth  and  in- 
fluence to  keep  every  such  institution  out  of  their 
neighborhoods.  Thus  continually  was  she  brought 
into  sharp  collision  with  some  of  the  most  distasteful 
features  of  human  nature. 

In  the  State  of  Maryland,  for  example,  she,  on  this 
last  especial  score,  found  herself  subjected  to  very 
rude  and  offensive  treatment  at  the  hands  of  certain 
wealthy  land-owners.  So  high,  however,  was  the  re- 
spect in  which  she  was  held,  and  so  dignified,  even 
while  immovable  as  a  rock,  was  her  demeanor,  that 
here,*£,s  elsewhere,  a  reaction  set  in,  when  it  was  seen 
how  disinterestedly  she  stood  for  the  cause  of  mercy, 
while  her  opponents  stood  solely  for  considerations  of 
personal  selfishness.  Thus  from  Annapolis,  Md.,  her 
stanch  friend,  Hon.  Thomas  Donaldson,  was  soon  able 
to  write  her :  — 

"  There  is  a  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil,  and  you  have 
reason  to  thank  the  malice  of  your  opponents  for  the  sub- 
stantial aid  which  they  give  to  the  cause  you  advocate. 

The  attack  of ,  coining  from  a  masked  battery  too,  has 

raised  you  up  friends  that  before  were  opponents,  and  has 
added  the  impulse  of  indignation  to  the  cool  convictions  of 
your  friends.  The  hospital  never  was  so  strong  in  the 
Legislature  of  Maryland.  The  letter  of  Teackle  Wallis, 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER.          153 

printed  in  the  Appendix  of  the  Report,  is  really  admirable, 
and  it  tells  with  great  effect  here.  Every  sentence  cuts  as 
cleverly  and  as  cleanly  as  the  Saladin's  sword." 

At  times,  none  the  less,  there  grew  out  of  these  self- 
ish and  sordid  complications  incidents  so  honorable 
to  human  nature,  and  so  strikingly  illustrative  of  the 
persuasive  moral  eloquence  of  the  subject  of  this  biog- 
raphy, that  it  is  a  delight  to  record  them.  Such  a 
one  is  the  following. 

No  one  who  has  ever  visited  the  Hospital  for  the 
Insane  of  the  Army  and  Navy,  at  Washington,  D.  C., 
could  have  set  foot  within  its  grounds  without  exclaim- 
ing, "  This  is  the  ideal  site  for  an  asylum  !  "  Situated 
at  the  junction  of  two  broad  and  noble  rivers,  the  Po- 
tomac and  the  East  Branch  ;  commanding  a  superb 
view  by  land  and  water ;  gently  sloping  on  all  sides 
from  its  highest  elevation  so  as  to  secure  perfect  drain- 
age ;  and  embracing  within  its  bounds  the  most  varied 
charm  of  wood  and  pasture,  it  seems  to  unite  every 
conceivable  advantage.  Now,  at  the  date  of  the  pas- 
sage by  Congress,  in  1852,  of  an  appropriatfon  for 
founding  an  asylum  for  the  insane  of  the  army  and 
navy,  this  beautiful  domain  was  the  private  property 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Blagden,  and,  in  carefully  examining 
the  whole  country  surrounding  Washington,  Dr.  John 
H.  Nichols,  who  had  labored  indefatigably  toward  the 
passage  of  the  bill,  had  made  up  his  mind  that  there 
was  no  other  site  at  all  comparable  with  it.  Mr. 
Blagden,  however,  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  every  proposi- 
tion on  the  part  of  Dr.  Nichols  to  buy  it;  The  estate 
had  become  endeared  to  him  through  the  exceptional 
beauty  of  its  situation,  and  was,  moreover,  the  espe- 
cial pride  of  his  wife  and  daughters.  Besides,  the  full 
amount  appropriated  by  Congress  for  the  purchase  of 


154  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

a  site  was  but  125,000,  and  on  no  consideration,  Mr. 
Blagden  insisted,  would  he  part  with  the  property  at 
less  than  $40,000. 

One  day,  after  having  exhausted  every  personal  ef- 
fort, and  thoroughly  depressed  in  spirits,  Dr.  Nichols 
went  in  to  see  Miss  Dix.  "  There  is  nothing  more  to 
be  done  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  we  shall  have  to  give  the 
matter  up ;  and  it  is  the  finest  site  for  a  hospital  in 
the  world !  " 

Miss  Dix  listened  without  excitement,  and  then  re- 
plied, in  her  usual  quiet  tone,  "We  must  try  what 
can  be  done  ! "  Seeking  a  personal  interview  with 
Mr.  Blagden,  so  earnestly  and  movingly  did  she 
reason  with  him  to  surrender  for  the  future  good  of 
thousands  of  his  suffering  fellow-creatures  what  was 
so  precious,  indeed,  to  him  and  his  family,  but  to  one 
household  only,  that  the  appeal  proved  irresistible,  and 
he  gave  her  his  promise  of  the  estate  at  the  amount 
appropriated  by  Congress.  None  the  less  the  parting 
with  it  cost  him  a  fearful  wrench  ;  for  on  Dr.  Nichols's 
calling'  on  him,  the  next  day,  with  the  requisite  papers 
to  sign,  Mr.  Blagden  was  found  walking  the  room  to 
and  fro,  weeping  and  wringing  his  hands  in  a  half- 
hysteric  condition.  "  I  don't  want  to  part  with  it !  " 
he  kept  reiterating.  "  It  is  dear  to  me  and  dear  to 
my  family  !  But  I  won't  break  my  word  to  Miss  Dix, 
—  I  won't  break  my  word !  I  told  her  she  should 
have  it,  and  she  shall  have  it !  " 

Such  scenes  as  this  do  honor  to  human  nature.  In- 
deed, it  would  be  hard  to  instance  a  more  beautiful 
tribute  to  the  power  of  consecrated  womanhood  than 
is  embodied  in  the  following  letter,  so  simple,  hushed, 
and  awestruck  in  its  tone,  sent  to  Miss  Dix  by  Mr. 
Blagden,  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  she  had 


THE  BURDEN   GROWING   HEAVIER.  155 

thus  closed  in,  in  Jacob's  angel  wrestle,  with  his  deep- 
est nature. 

"  WASHINGTON,  November,  13,  1852. 

"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  Since  seeing  you  to-day,  I  have  had 
no  other  opinion  (and  Mrs.  B.  also)  than  that  I  must  not 
stand  between  you  and  the  beloved  farm,  regarding  you,  as 
I  do,  as  the  instrument  in  the  hands  of  God  to  secure  this 
very  spot  for  the  unfortunates  whose  best  earthly  friend  you 
are,  and  believing  sincerely  that  the  Almighty's  blessing 
will  not  rest  on,  nor  abide  with,  those  who  may  place  obsta- 
cles in  your  way. 

"  With  Mrs.  Blagden's  and  my  own  most  friendly  re- 
gards, 

"  Very  respectfully, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

THOMAS  BLAGDEN." 

Onerous  and  exacting  as  were  the  responsibilities 
thus  imposed  on  Miss  Dix  through  the  appeals  now 
constantly  made  to  her  by  officials  of  the  many  States 
in  which  she  had  secured  appropriations  for  asylums, 
to  assume  the  further  task  of  advising  with  the  com- 
missioners on  all  matters  of  selection  of  sites  and 
plans  of  construction,  still,  even  these  grave  burdens 
were,  perhaps,  exceeded  in  weight  by  another  class 
of  duties  soon  inevitably  thrust  upon  her. 

What  had  she  really  been  bringing  about  through 
this  series  of  unexampled  legislative  successes  ?  No- 
thing less  than  the  actual  creation  within  the  United 
States  of  the  conditions  for  the  foundation  and  devel- 
opment of  a  great  school  of  trained  experts  in  the 
treatment  of  insanity.  Before  those  ten  or  twelve 
years  of  rapid,  Napoleonic  victories,  there  had  existed 
—  except  in  a  few  scattered  places  —  neither  the  call 
nor  the  opportunity  for  practically  enlisting  and  de- 


156  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

ploying  this  especial  order  of  medical  talent.  Now 
fast  grew  up  a  wide  demand  for  it,  a  great  school  of 
practice  in  which  to  acquire  and  exercise  the  requisite 
knowledge  and  skill.  The  attention  of  large  numbers 
of  able  medical  minds  was  thus  turned  in  a  new  direc- 
tion and  solicited  to  a  new  field. 

Who  should  be  superintendents,  assistant  physi- 
cians, stewards,  attendants,  and  nurses  in  all  these 
fast-springing-up  asylums?  On  wise  and  judicious 
appointments  hung  the  whole  success  of  the  new  un- 
dertaking. What  more  natural,  then,  than  that  in 
these  as  yet  inexperienced  States  governors  and  legis- 
lators should  turn  for  counsel  to  the  woman  whose 
commanding  moral  genius  had  summoned  into  being 
so  many  new  institutions?  Steadily  the  amount  of 
patronage  placed  in  her  hands  grew  in  volume ;  and 
here  her  remarkable  judgment  of  character  and  ca- 
pacity revealed  itself  in  its  full  strength.  It  is  the 
responsible  privilege  of  a  biographer  to  go  through  an 
immense  mass  of  papers,  the  contents  of  which  are  of 
too  private  a  character  to  be  made  known  to  the  pub- 
lic. Perfectly  allowable,  however,  is  it  to  say  here 
that  a  list  so  large  could  be  drawn  up  of  men,  later 
on  achieving  a  national  reputation  as  authorities  on 
insanity,  who,  in  these  and  subsequent  years,  owed 
their  appointments  solely  to  the  recommendation  of 
Miss  Dix,  that  the  number  and  character  of  the  names 
on  it  would  awaken  wide-spread  surprise. 

Very  rich  was  life  now  becoming  to  Miss  Dix  in  hu- 
man relationships  .which  in  a  measure  relieved  the 
strain  put  upon  her  by  the  more  arduous  and  painful 
side  of  her  work.  Her  range  of  acquaintance  with 
the  best  men  and  women  in  all  parts  of  the  land  had 
grown  to  be  immense,  and,  homeless  herself,  she  was 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER,  157 

everywhere  welcomed  under  their  roofs.  She  had 
filled  life  with  new  zest  to  many,  who  but  fox*  her  lead- 
ership would  have  found  no  avenue  of  usefulness  open 
to  them  ;  and  as  the  nature  of  her  work  involved 
the  enlistment  of  the  largest  possible  number  of  co- 
workers,  to  help  add  attraction  to  the  at  first  bare  and 
unhomelike  asylum  wards,  she  suffered  no  chance  to 
pass  of  stimulating  them  to  contributions  of  all  kinds. 
Even  on  the  children  of  the  various  homes  she  vis- 
ited, she  never  failed  to  impress  the  idea  of  how  much 
they  could  do  in  aid  of  the  blessed  cause.  Old  toys, 
puzzles,  musical  boxes,  nodding  Chinese  mandarins, 
collections  of  minerals,  seaweeds,  pressed  flowers,  but- 
terflies, eggs,  birdsnests,  —  nothing,  she  showed  them, 
would  come  amiss  in  the  way  of  amusing  poor  de- 
mented patients,  and  turning  their  minds  away  from 
their  melancholy  broodings.  Numberless  the  prized 
collections  that  under  the  spell  of  her  persuasive  elo- 
quence were  thus  surrendered  by  little  boys  and  girls ; 
as,  equally  numberless,  the  juvenile  tears  that  were 
shed,  after  the  spell  of  that  eloquence  was  withdrawn 
and  the  instincts  of  the  sweetness  of  private  owner- 
ship revived  in  their  little  breasts.  Amusing  stories 
are  to  this  day  told,  by  persons  now  well  advanced  in 
years,  of  the  miserly  eagerness  with  which,  as  boys  and 
girls,  they  secreted  days  ahead  their  precious  treasures, 
on  the  alarming  news  being  revealed  to  them  that  Miss 
Dix  was  expected  in  the  house.  Indeed,  it  may  be 
seriously  questioned  whether  sometimes  a  deep-rooted 
repugnance  to  charity  and  all  its  works  was  not  thus 
lodged  in  certain  of  their  minds  through  demands  for 
a  pitch  of  self-sacrifice  beyond  the  immaturity  of  view 
as  to  the  sacred  claims  of  insanity  usually  prevalent  at 
the  age  of  six  or  eight. 


158  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

A  simple  impossibility  was  it  that  a  character  of 
the  steady  intensity  and  force  of  will,  which  alone 
rendered  possible  such  a  career  as  that  of  Miss  Dix, 
should  not  at  times  have  inspired  a  certain  sense  of 
awe.  The  pace  at  which  great  souls  go  takes  away 
the  breath  of  average  mortals,  and  they  cry  out  at  the 
strain  that  is  put  on  their  feebler  powers.  And  yet, 
in  the  way  of  illustration  of  how  completely  closer 
intercourse  with  her  served  to  dispel  this  fear,  the 
following  letter  from  Mrs.  Louisa  J.  Hall,  widow  of 
the  late  Kev.  Edward  B.  Hall,  D.  D.,  of  Providence, 
R.  L,  gives  a  charming  picture.  The  letter  was 
written  in  answer  to  a  request  for  any  recollections 
she  might  feel  inclined  to  furnish  of  the  far-away  days 
when  she  was  brought  into  personal  contact  with  Miss 
Dix:  — 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  May  17,  1889. 

u  I  think  it  was  in  1844  that  my  husband  came  to  me  in 
the  nursery,  and  said  Miss  Dix  was  below.  I  declined  go- 
ing down,  thinking  she  had  merely  called  to  consult  him. 
*  No,  she  had  come  to  stay  all  night,  and  would  like  to  see 
me  in  the  nursery ! '  I  thought  it  an  unceremonious  pro- 
ceeding, did  not  like  a  woman  that  went  about  a  '  self-ap- 
pointed critic,'  had  heard  that  she  was  '  cross '  when  she 
kept  school,  and  I  was  a  prejudiced  woman,  shame  to  me ! 
She  made  her  appearance,  and  one  look  at  that  calm, 
gentle  face  had  its  effect.  Then  only  a  word  of  ladylike 
apology  in  a  sweet,  low  voice,  and  I  began  to  feel  the  gift 
she  had. 

•  "I  was  mending  my  boys'  socks,  and  she  quietly.took  up 
one  and  began  darning  with  a  skillful  hand,  talking  most 
pleasantly  of  the  beautiful  city  of  Providence,  and  of  some 
Boston  minister  we  both  knew.  For  two  hours  we  sat  to- 
gether, and  not  one  word  about  the  insane  or  her  '  mission,' 
when  I  had  anticipated  that  she  would  talk  of  nothing  else. 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER.          159 

This  foolish,  obstinate  conservative  was  conquered  by  the 
force  of  that  beautiful,  strong  nature,  shining  through  a 
genuine  womanhood.  After  dinner,  she  said  to  my  hus- 
band, *  Now  I  am  at  your  service,'  and  he  immediately  took 
her  to  see  some  persons  interested  in  her  work.  She  stayed 
some  days  with  us,  never  introducing  the  subject,  but  ready 
to  give  information,  and  tell  us  of  facts  that  made  us  bless 
the  day  she  was  born,  and  the  day  when  she  found  what 
work  the  Lord  had  for  her. 

"  As  I  am  a  thorough  woman,  you  must  let  me  speak  of 
her  dress.  She  traveled  all  over  the  country  with  a  moder- 
ate valise  in  her  hand,  and  wearing  a  plain  gray  traveling 
dress  with  snow-white  collar  and  cuffs.  Her  trunk  was 
sent  a  week  ahead  with  the  necessary  changes  of  linen,  etc., 
and  one  plain  black  silk  dress  for  special  occasions.  Neat- 
ness in  everything  indicated  her  well-directed  mind.  And 
my  acquaintance  with  her  helped  me  on  the  upward  way 
from  extreme  conservatism." 

These  opposing  sides  of  the  impression  made  'on 
others  by  Miss  Dix  —  the  impression  on  the  one  hand 
of  a  certain  rigid  inflexibility,  a  certain  self-with- 
drawn and  awe-inspiring  element  in  her  nature,  and, 
on  the  other,  of  a  winning  sweetness  when  the  foun- 
tains of  feeling  were  broken  up  from  within  —  were  in- 
evitably felt  by  all  who  came  in  contact  with  her,  and 
were  never  to  the  end  of  life  thoroughly  harmonized 
in  her  nature.  Sometimes  the  one,  sometimes  the 
other,  stood  out  separate ;  on  other  occasions  they 
were  fused  in  a  strong  and  gracious  unity.  Her  moral 
will  aroused  and  at  the  forefront,  she  was  adamant. 
"  To  have  Miss  Dix  suddenly  arrive  at  your  asylum," 
said  the  eminent  Dr.  Isaac  Ray,  of  Providence,  "  and 
find  anything  neglected  or  amiss,  was  considerably 
worse  than  an  earthquake.  Not  that  she  said  anything 
on  the  spot,  but  one  felt  something  ominous  suspended 


160  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

in  the  very  air."  Then  again,  her  sensibilities  touched, 
she  was  overflowing  with  tenderness  and  compassion. 
Lifelong  invalids  testified  to  a  power  of  uplifting  sym- 
pathy in  her  —  as  of  one  over  whom  all  the  waves  and 
billows  had  likewise  gone  —  possessed  by  the  rarest 
few.  On  the  great  occasions,  however,  when  these 
opposing  characteristics  were  molten  together  in  the 
furnace  of  the  sacred  cause  for  which  she  alternately 
plead  and  flamed  at  the  bar  of  public  bodies,  then 
truly  was  she  irresistible.  Thus  one  seems  to  be  deal- 
ing with  so  many  distinct  personalities.  Those  who 
met  her  silent  and  uncommunicative,  after  the  exhaus- 
tion of  one  of  her  legislative  campaigns,  passed  judg- 
ment on  her  as  self-centered  and  unsocial ;  those  who 
felt  her  soothing  touch  in  the  sick-room  called  her  a 
ministering  angel;  those  who  beheld  her  organizing 
victory,  and  riding  triumphant  over  obstacles  that 
would  have  disheartened  the  bravest,  hailed  in  her  a 
modern  Joan  of  Arc. 

This  diversity  of  judgment,  and  one  of  the  natural 
reasons  for  it,  find  striking  expression  in  the  following 
extract  from  a  beautiful  memorial  tribute  written  for 
the  "  Home  Journal,"  of  New  York,  by  Mrs.  S.  C.  P. 
Miller,  of  Princeton,  N.  J.,  and  first  printed  Septem- 
ber 11,  1889:- 

"  It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  realize  that  she  was 
indeed  a  woman  having  much  in  common  with  the  rest  of  us. 
I  saw  her  only  when  she  was  strong  and  self-collected,  and 
believed  that  to  be  her  normal  condition.  But  there  came 
a  day  when  I  got  a  new  insight  into  her  nature.  I  was  in 
Richmond,  and  she,  on  a  mission  farther  South,  halted  there 
and  sent  a  note  for  me  to  come  and  see  her.  I  went  to  the 
hotel  immediately,  was  ushered  into  her  room,  and  there 
found  such  a  Miss  Dix  as  I  had  never  dreamed  of.  Over- 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER.          161 

strain  of  mind  and  body,  destroying  her  calm  exterior  and 
bearing  away  the  support  of  her  high  purpose,  had  left  her 
stretched  upon  a  sofa,  utterly  weak,  nervous,  and  tearful. 
Not  a  bit  of  the  heroism  was  left ;  only  the  tried  woman  of 
a  type  I  knew  full  well.  Amazed  at  her  condition,  I  bent 
over  her  with  a  tenderness  before  unknown,  and  a  new  bond 
of  sympathy  was  established  between  us  ;  so  strange  is  it, 
yet  so  true,  that  tears  bring  all  women  to  the  same  level." 

And  yet,  when  at  the  lowest  point  of  physical  pros- 
tration, Miss  Dix  could  herself  write  to  a  friend  :  "  I 
shall  be  well  enough  when  I  get  to  Kentucky  or  Ala- 
bama. The  tonic  I  need  is  the  tonic  of  opposition. 
That  always  sets  me  on  my  feet." 

Among  the  many  persons  of  distinction  with  whom, 
at  this  period  of  her  career,  Miss  Dix  came  in  inti- 
mate contact,  was  the  once  famous  Swedish  novelist, 
Frederika  Bremer,  then  on  a  visit  to  the  United 
States.  Herself  suffering  from  exhaustion  brought  on 
by  overwork  and  on  the  edge  of  utter  collapse,  Miss 
Bremer  felt  strongly  drawn  to  the  especial  type  of 
ministering  angel  whose  life  had  been  consecrated  to 
the  victims  of  nervous  wreck.  Of  the  various  letters 
she  addressed  from  point  to  point  to  her  American 
friend,  there  are  two  or  three  which  throw  such  light 
both  on  the  impression  made  on  her  by  the  personality 
of  Miss  Dix,  and  on  the  nature  of  the  far-reaching 
schemes  of  benevolent  action,  outside  of  her  own  coun- 
try, already  engaging  the  ardent  mind  of  the  latter,  as 
to  be  well  worthy  of  introduction  here :  — 

"  CONEY  ISLAND,  near  NEW  YORK,  August,  1850. 
"  There  now  she  comes,  heaping  burning  —  not  coals,  but 
flowers  —  on  my  guilty  head  !     Alas,  dear  Miss  Dix  !  not 
so  guilty  as  poor  in  carrying  out  by  the  hand  what  the  heart 


162  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  D1X. 

and  thought  dictate.  ...  I  am  now  about  to  start  for  my 
Western  journey,  and  am  full  of  gratitude  for  the  delightful 
memories  that  I  have  gathered  both  in  the  North  and  South 
from  both  man  and  nature.  Not  the  least  delightful  of 
these  is  that  of  a  moonlight  evening  on  the  shores  of  the 
Patapsco  and  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  where  I  heard  the  story 
of  a  simple  life  beginning,  as  the  river  before  me,  from  a 
little  stream  born  of  a  heavenly  fountain,  and  widening, 
widening,  as  it  ran  forth  through  the  valleys  and  fields  and 
cities,  to  a  large,  rich  water,  opening  to  mingle  with  the 
waters  of  the  ocean,  and  blessing  and  bearing  fruit  to  every 
shore  as  it  went  along  in  the  still  night,  looked  upon  alone  by 
the  clear  light  of  heaven.  That  life  and  the  river  in  the 
moonlight  have  become  one  image  in  my  soul,  and  a  bright 
and  blessed  spot  it  remains  there,  to  be  looked  upon,  to  be 
enjoyed,  many  a  time  during  the  flying  and  trying  years  of 
life." 

In  a  second  letter,  however,  written  by  Miss  Bremer, 
November  2, 1850,  from  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  a  cloud  has 
come  across  the  fair  sky,  and  the  writer  is  found  tak- 
ing decided  stand  against  a  project  already  shaping 
itself  in  Miss  Dix's  mind,  —  the  project,  namely,  that 
when  she  should  have  finished  her  immediate  work  in 
America  through  the  successful  foundation  of  asylums 
in  the  various  States,  she  would  seek  a  new  field  of 
labor  in  Europe,  and  especially  in  those  parts  of  it 
where  the  treatment  of  insanity  was  in  the  most  back- 
ward condition.  To  Frederika  Bremer,  the  idea  of 
any  good  being  effected,  in  the  way  of  awakening  the 
people  of  Sweden  to  a  sense  of  their  duties  toward 
any  class  of  their  own  population,  by  a  foreigner,  and 
above  all  a  foreigner  entirely  ignorant  of  the  lan- 
guage, seemed  wholly-  romantic.  Her  national  pride 
took  offense  at  the  bare  proposition,  as  equally  did 
that  of  the  Swedish  Nightingale,  Jenny  Lind.  Fee- 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER.  163 

bly,  however,  did  she  measure  the  heroic  spirit  and 
range  of  mind  of  the  woman  whose  later  career  was 
so  marvelously  to  illustrate  the  truth  that  God  has 
made  of  "  one  blood  all  the  dwellers  on  the  earth,"  and 
that  faith  and  love  find  easy  flight  over  every  barrier 
of  sea,  mountain,  language,  race,  or  religious  creed. 
Still,  Frederika  Bremer's  sensitiveness  was  natural 
enough  to  average,  restricted  humanity.  Only  she 
forgot  that  the  "  Chinese  Wall,"  to  which  she  will  be 
found  alluding,  dated  back  to  an  antiquated  order  of 
military  defenses,  regarded  by  her  invincible  friend 
as  only  fit  to  keep  out  Tartars :  — 

"CINCINNATI,  OHIO,  November  2,  1850. 

"  Sweden  lacks  neither  goodwill  nor  means.  What  is 
wanted  there  is  energy  and  impulse  of  will ;  and  that,  a 
foreigner  unknown  in  the  country,  and  herself  not  knowing 
its  language  and  forms  of  government,  could  not  give. 
Jenny  Lind  is  right  in  that  opinion.  As  things  now  stand, 
it  would  be  easier  for  you  to  climb  the  Chinese  Wall  than  to 
work  any  good  personally  f or  the  unfortunate  insane  in  Swe- 
den. But  believe  me,  dear  Miss  Dix,  what  you  have  done, 
what  you  are  doing  in  America,  will,  when  properly  dis- 
closed, —  as  it  ought  to  be,  and  must  be,  to  Sweden,  —  work 
more  for  a  bettering  of  the  insane  asylums  there  than  a  gift 
of  ten  millions  could  in  their  behalf.  The  power  of  the 
Idea,  and  the  power  of  example,  are  the  great  movers  of 
our  time,  and  go  from  heart  to  heart,  from  land  to  land, 
with  electric  shock. 

"  Most  thankful  am  I,  dear  Miss  Dix,  for  the  interest  you 
express  for  me  and  my  health.  Thank  God,  I  am  very 
well  now.  You  certainly  need  more  to  take  care  of  your 
health  than  I  now  of  mine.  But  you  are  as  a  general  on  a 
battlefield,  and  cannot  care  for  life  till  the  battle  is  over 
and  victory  won.  May  it  be  soon  for  you !  " 

In  Miss  Bremer's  third  letter,  written  the  following 


164  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

year  from  the  Island  of  Cuba,  she  makes  ample 
amends.  All  wounds  of  aggrieved  national  pride  are 
now  healed,  and  in  a  realm  of  free  imagination,  from 
which  all  prosaic  obstacles  of  alien  languages  and 
forms  of  government  are  eliminated,  she  creates  for 
Miss  Dix  an  ideal  Utopia  over  which  she  shall  be  in- 
stalled as  queen :  — 

"Si1.  AMELIA  ESTATE,  CUBA,  March  17,  1851. 
"  If  I  had  rule  on  earth,  Cuba  —  this  beautiful  Antille  — 
should  be  transformed  into  a  great  Maison  de  Sante'.  a  home 
for  the  sickly  and  feeble.  There  they  should  sit  in  their  rock- 
ing-chairs under  the  palms  and  the  tamarinds,  and  breathe 
the  delightful  air  of  this  island  (which  I  cannot  think  was 
better  in  Paradise),  be  caressed  by  the  soft,  loving  breeze, 
and  drink  in  it,  as  in  Olympian  nectar,  new  health,  new  life. 
And  you  should  be  the  queen  here,  and  have  a  cabinet  of 
ladies,  kind  and  beautiful,  such  as  I  know  several  in  the 
United  States,  who  should  chiefly  officiate  as  nurses  for  the 
sick,  as  noble  Valkyrias  and  healing  goddesses  for  those 
slain  or  wounded  in  the  battle  of  life." 

Not  unlikely  the  majority  of  readers  of  this  last  let- 
ter would  set  down  Frederika  Bremer  as  a  far  more 
imaginative  woman  than  Dorothea  Lynde  Dix.  So 
widely  is  genuine  constructive  power  of  imagination 
confused  with  the  activity  of  a  mere  dreamy  fancy, 
that  the  number  is  legion  who  think  a  more  vigorous 
exercise  of  the  "  faculty  divine "  demanded  for  the 
creation  of  an  airy  ideal  Utopia  like  this,  than  for 
first  summoning  before  the  mind's  eye,  and  then  sub- 
stantializing in  massive  buildings  and  wide-ranging 
farms,  parks,  and  gardens,  the  actual  "  Retreats  " 
from  a  harsh  and  cruel  world,  which  Miss  Dix  pro- 
vided for  such  hosts  of  sufferers.  In  reality,  the 
"  noble  Valkyrias,"  of  whom  Frederika  Bremer  speaks, 


THE  BURDEN  GROWING  HEAVIER.  165 

"  healing  goddesses  for  those  slain  or  wounded  in  the 
battle  of  life,"  were  far  more  profoundly  conceived, 
than  by  herself,  by  the  heroic  woman  to  whom  she 
wrote.  She  knew,  out  of  stern  experience,  that  the 
true  Valkyrias  are  fateful  and  awful  powers,  who  must 
first  stride  the  blast  and  sweep  to  the  rescue  through 
the  din  and  shrieks  of  the  battlefield,  before  they  can 
think  to  reach,  and  bear  off  in  their  arms  to  the  Val- 
halla of  rest,  the  fallen  warriors  trampled  in  dust  and 
blood. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   FIVE   MILLION   ACRE   BILL. 

A  LETTER  of  Miss  Dix,  already  quoted  in  Chapter 
XIII.,  will  be  recalled,  in  which,  in  an  hour  of  weari- 
ness, she  wrote :  "  I  think,  after  this  year,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly not  suffer  myself  to  engage  in  any  legislative 
affairs  for  a  year.  I  can  conceive  the  state  of  mind 
which  this  induces  to  be  like  nothing  save  the  influ- 
ences of  the  gambling  table,  or  any  games  of  chance, 
—  on  such  unlooked-for,  and  often  trivial,  balances  do 
the  issues  depend." 

The  stakes  for  which  she  had  now  for  years  been 
playing  were  indeed  pecuniarily  enormous,  involving 
in  the  case  of  each  separate  asylum  from  fifty  to  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  at  the  start,  not  to  speak  of 
the  further  appropriations  for  permanent  expenses 
and  for  enlargement  that  must  inevitably  ensue. 
They  were  stakes,  moreover,  on  the  winning  or  losing 
of  which  hung  the  devout  thanksgiving  of  a  merciful 
heart  at  relief  now  close  at  hand  for  cruel  shapes  of 
human  misery,  or  the  silent  torture  that  the  old,  sad 
story  must  go  on  unchanged. 

In  comparison,  however,  with  the  far  vaster  stake 
she  was  now  about  to  play  for,  —  no  longer  in  the 
halls  of  State  legislative  assemblies,  but  on  the  arena 
of  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of  the 
United  States,  —  these  previous  ventures  involved  but 
trivial  issues. 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  167 

To  set  the  subject  here  to  be  entered  on  in  a  clear 
light,  it  will  be  necessary  to  go  back  several  years  in 
the  story  of  Miss  Dix's  career.  So  manifold  were 
the  operations  she  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  on, 
at  the  same  time,  that  there  is  no  other  feasible  way 
but  to  set  apart  certain  of  them  and  treat  them  as 
distinct  episodes. 

Already,  at  as  early  a  date  as  1848,  had  she  me- 
morialized Congress  for  a  grant  of  5,000,000  acres  of 
the  public  domain,  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  of  which 
were  to  be  set  apart  as  a  perpetual  fund  for  the  care 
of  the  indigent  insane ;  the  sum  total  of  the  fund  to 
be  divided,  in  proportion  with  their  respective  ratas 
of  population,  among  the  thirty  States  of  the  Union. 
Partial  failure  in  her  first  attempt  to  secure  this  grant 
had  only  acted  on  her  in  the  way  of  that  especial  tonic 
which  she  declared  always  set  her  on  her  feet  —  the 
tonic  of  opposition,  —  and  so  led  her,  at  a  subsequent 
session  of  Congress,  to  raise  the  amount  of  her  plea  to 
the  colossal  sum  of  12,225,000  acres. 

It  is  easy  to  write  down  the  numerals  which  stand 
for  12,225,000  acres  of  land.  A  far  harder,  thing  is 
it  to  stretch  the  imagination  to  the  point  of  conceiving 
what  they  really  imply.  They  mean  nearly  20,000 
square  miles  of  territory.  They  mean  an  area  nearly 
three  times  the  size  of  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  an 
area  more  than  a  third  as  large  as  England,  with 
Wales  included.  Could  she  carry  this  great  measure, 
Miss  Dix  felt  that  the  work  of  her  life  in  her  own 
land  would  be  permanently  crowned.  A  steady  iu- 
come,  growing  in  volume  with  the  growth  of  popula- 
tion in  the  country,  would  thus  be  secured  in  per- 
petuity for  the  most  wretched  of  the  children  of 
earth. 


168  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

To  bring  the  actual  situation  clearly  before  the 
mind,  a  short  explanation  is  here  needful  of  the  rela- 
tions borne  by  the  Federal  Government  of  the  United 
States  to  the  disposition  of  the  enormous  areas  of  the 
public  lands. 

The  original  thirteen  Revolutionary  States,  stretched 
along  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  —  the  States  which  had 
fought  for  and  achieved  the  independence  of  the 
United  States,  —  had  always  maintained  a  claim  to 
share  severally  in  the  vast  areas  of  unoccupied  lands 
lying  to  the  westward,  which  they  had  individually 
ceded  to  the  Federal  Government.  Through  subse- 
quent purchase  and  conquest,  this  area  had  grown  to 
continental  proportions  ;  and  as  new  territories  were 
from  time  to  time  formed  into  States,  and  admitted  as 
integral  members  of  the  Union,  the  same  claims  were 
fully  accorded  to  them.  Under  the  condition  of  a 
public  treasury  overflowing  with  revenue  from  sales 
of  the  public  domain  to  settlers,  the  representatives  in 
Congress  had,  every  now  and  then,  deemed  it  wise  to 
distribute  this  money  surplus  among  the  several 
States.  Further,  to  the  new  States  almost  exclusively, 
immense  tracts  of  land,  reaching  in  1845  an  aggre- 
gate of  134,704,982  acres,  had  been  granted  for  the 
purpose  of  rapidly  developing  a  system  of  general 
education  and  of  internal  improvements.  And  yet 
there  still  remained  unassigned  more  than  one  thou- 
sand millions  of  acres  of  the  public  domain. 

In  the  main,  the  disposition  thus  far  made  of  the 
public  lands  had  been  judicious,  and,  especially,  had 
laid  the  foundation  of  an  excellent  school  system 
in  the  newly  formed  and  thinly  populated  States. 
The  immense  prizes,  however,  thus  opened  up  to  the 
schemes  of  private  speculators,  internal  improvement 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  169 

companies,  and  projectors  of  new  lines  of  railway,  had 
finally  inflamed  the  cupidity  of  thousands.  Congress 
was  besieged  for  grants  of  land,  demanded  on  an  in- 
credibly lavish  scale. 

It  was  the  sight  of  this  pushing  horde  of  greedy 
adventurers,  assailing  Congress  through  the  Represen- 
tatives of  their  various  States,  that  first  inspired  Miss 
Dix  with  the  thought,  "  Why  cannot  I  too  go  in  with 
this  selfish,  struggling  throng,  and  plead  for  God's 
poor  and  outcast,  that  they  shall  not  be  forgotten  ?  " 
From  the  outset,  she  felt  that  the  undertaking  was  to 
be  a  most  formidable  one.  She  had  nothing  to  offer 
in  the  way  of  material  reward,  no  vote  to  barter,  no 
place  to  promise,  no  self-interested  schemers  to  enlist 
in  bolstering  up  her  project,  —  nothing  to  fall  back  on 
but  the  plea  for  mercy  from  a  woman's  lips. 

It  was  on  June  23,  1848,  that  her  first  Memorial 
was  submitted  to  Congress.  Already  had  she  taken 
such  precautionary  steps  and  secured  such  influential 
friends  among  leading  Representatives  from  the  vari- 
ous States  in  which  her  name  had  now  become  a  house- 
hold word,  that  the  Memorial  was  at  once  referred  to 
a  select  committee,  and  five  thousand  copies  of  it  were 
ordered  to  be  printed  for  the  use  of  the  Senate.  Her 
prayer  thus  far  was  for  a  grant  of  5,000,000  acres  for 
"  the  relief  and  support  of  the  indigent  insane  in  the 
United  States." 

Greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  effect  produced  by 
this  new  Memorial  was  it  that  now  Miss  Dix  ad- 
dressed herself,  not  to  the  legislature  of  a  single  State, 
but  to  the  Congress  of  them  all.  She  was  thus  en- 
abled to  focus  in  a  single  appeal  the  whole  dire  story 
of  her  investigations  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  land. 


170  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX, 

"  Present  hospital  provision  [she  declares]  relieves  (if  we 
do  not  include  those  institutions  not  considered  remedial) 
less  than  three  thousand  seven  hundred  patients.  Where  are 
the  remainder,  and  in  what  condition  ?  More  than  eighteen 
thousand  are  unsuitably  placed  in  private  dwellings,  in 
jails,  in  poorhouses,  and  other  often  most  wretched  habita- 
tions. ...  I  have  myself  seen  more  than  nine  thousand 
idiots,  epileptics,  and  insane  in  these  United  States,  desti- 
tute of  appropriate  care  and  protection  ;  and  of  this  vast 
and  miserable  company,  sought  out  in  jails,  in  poorhouses, 
and  in  private  dwellings,  there  have  been  hundreds,  —  nay, 
rather  thousands,  —  bound  with  galling  chains,  bowed  beneath 
fetters  and  heavy  iron  balls  attached  to  drag  chains,  lacer- 
ated with  ropes,  scourged  with  rods,  and  terrified  beneath 
storms  of  profane  execrations  and  cruel  blows ;  now  subject 
to  gibes  and  scorn  and  torturing  tricks,  now  abandoned 
to  the  most  loathsome  necessities,  or  subject  to  the  vilest 
and  most  outrageous  violations.  These  are  strong  terms,  but 
language  fails  to  convey  the  astonishing  truths.  I  proceed 
to  verify  this  assertion,  commencing  with  the  State  of 
Maine." 

Every  State  is  then,  seriatim,  arraigned.  The 
amount  of  eye-witness  testimony  piled  up  is  appalling. 
And  it  strikes  home  all  round.  The  member  from 
Georgia  cannot  turn  superiorly  on  the  member  from 
Rhode  Island,  and,  quoting  the  case  of  Abram  Sim- 
mons, cry,  "  This,  then,  is  the  state  of  civilization  and 
humanity  in  your  benighted  region !  "  Swiftly  the 
member  from  Rhode  Island  could  retort :  "  Go  on  a 
few  pages  farther,  and  see  how  edifying  is  the  example 
set  by  your  enlightened  State  ! "  Let  us  look  over 
the  shoulder  of  the  member  from  Georgia,  reading 
with  him  the  following  case  in  his  own  State,  and  then 
ask  how  far  he  would  have  felt  inclined  to  protract 
the  sectional  controversy  :  — 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  171 

"  It  was  an  intensely  hot  day  when  I  visited  F.  He  was 
confined  in  a  roofed  pen,  which  inclosed  an  area  of  about 
eight  feet  by  eight.  The  interstices  between  the  unhewn 
logs  admitted  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun  then,  as  they 
would  open  the  way  for  the  fierce  winds  and  drenching 
rains  or  frosts  of  the  later  seasons.  The  place  was  wholly 
bare  of  furniture,  —  no  bench,  no  bed,  no  clothing.  His 
food,  which  was  of  the  coarsest  kind,  was  pushed  through 
spaces  between  the  logs.  '  Fed  like  the  hogs,  and  no  bet- 
ter ! '  said  a  stander-by.  His  feet  had  been  frozen  by  ex- 
posure to  cold  in  the  winter  past.  Upon  the  shapeless 
stumps,  aided  by  his  arms,  he  could  raise  himself  against  the 
logs  of  his  pen.  In  warm  weather,  this  wretched  place  was 
cleansed  out  once  a  week  or  fortnight ;  not  so  in  the  colder 
seasons.  '  We  have  men  called,'  said  his  sister,  '  and  they 
go  in  and  tie  him  with  ropes  and  throw  him  on  the  ground 
and  throw  water  on  him,  and  my  husband  cleans  out  the 
place.'  But  the  expedient  to  prevent  his  freezing  in  winter 
was  the  most  strangely  horrible.  In  the  centre  of  the  pen 
was  excavated  a  pit,  six  feet  square,  and  deep  ;  the  top  was 
closed  over  securely  :  and  into  this  ghastly  place,  entered 
through  a  trap-door,  was  cast  the  maniac,  there  to  exist  till 
the  returning  warm  weather  induced  his  care-taker  to  with- 
draw him ;  there,  without  heat,  without  light,  without  pure 
air,  was  left  the  pining,  miserable  maniac,  whose  piteous 
groans  and  frantic  cries  might  move  to  pity  the  hardest 
heart." 

Fortifying,  through  the  testimony  of  leading  ex- 
perts on  insanity  in  America  and  Europe,  her  own  . 
insistence  on  the  impossibility  of  coping  with  these  ter- 
rible  evils  except  by  the  establishment  of  scientifically 
conducted  asylums,  Miss  Dix  concluded  her  Memorial 
with  a  few  strong  words  of  appeal :  — 

"  Should  your  sense  of  moral  responsibility  seek  support 
in  precedents  for  guiding  present  action,  I  may  be  permitted 


172  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

to  refer  to  the  fact  of  liberal  grants  of  common  national 
property  made,  in  the  light  of  a  wise  discrimination,  to 
various  institutions  of  learning ;  also  to  advance  in  the  new 
States  common  school  education,  and  to  aid  two  seminaries 
of  instruction  for  the  deaf  and  dumb,  viz.,  that  in  Hartford, 
Connecticut,  and  the  school  at  Danville,  in  Kentucky,  etc. 
But  it  is  not  for  one  section  of  the  United  States  that  I 
solicit  benefits,  while  all  beside  are  deprived  of  direct  advan- 
tages. ...  I  ask  relief  for  the  East  and  for  the  West,  for 
the  North  and  for  the  South.  ...  I  ask  for  the  people  that 
which  is  already  the  property  of  the  people,  but  posses- 
sions so  holden  that  it  is  through  your  action  alone  they 
can  be  applied  as  now  urged.  ...  I  confide  to  you  the 
cause  and  the  claims  of  the  destitute,  without  fear  or  dis- 
trust. I  ask,  for  the  thirty  States  of  the  Union,  5,000,000 
acres  of  land,  of  the  many  hundreds  of  millions  of  public 
lands,  appropriated  in  such  a  manner  as  shall  assure  the 
greatest  benefits  to  all  who  are  in  circumstances  of  extreme 
necessity,  and  who,  through  the  providence  of  God,  are 
wards  of  the  nation,  claimants  on  the  sympathy  and  care  of 
the  public,  through  the  miseries  and  disqualifications  brought 
upon  them  by  the  sorest  afflictions  with  which  humanity  can 
be  visited.  Respectfully  submitted, 

«  D.  L.  D. 
"-WASHINGTON,  June  23,  1848." 

All  omens  at  the  start  looked  auspicious,  as  finds 
expression  in  the  two  following  letters  of  Miss  Dix  to 
her  cherished  Philadelphia  friend,  Mrs.  Robert  Hare : 
"  WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  July  5,  1848. 

"  For  more  than  three  weeks  I  have  been  ill  with  in- 
fluenza. While  unable  to  go  out,  I  wrote  my  Memorial  to 
Congress.  I  can  only  say  it  embodies  facts ;  as  a  literary 
effort  it  is  open  to  severe  criticism.  Five  thousand  extra 
copies  ordered  to  be  printed. 

"  I  expressed  my  wish  for  a  Select  Committee.  They 
said  it  was  unusual.  I  urged,  and  finally  said,  I  must  at 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  173 

least  be  suffered  to  propose  it.  I  wrote  out  my  list  and  car- 
ried my  measure  entirely,  —  Mr.  Beuton,  Mr.  Dix,  Mr. 
Harnegan,  Mr.  Bell,  and  Mr.  Davis,  of  Massachusetts,  —  of 
course  naming  a  Democratic  majority.  Mr.  Benton  prom- 
ised me  all  his  influence  in  the  outset,  and  was  to  have  been 
chairman,  and  to  have  presented  the  Memorial,  but  was  not 
well,  and  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  one  of  my  new  parti- 
sans, a  man  of  good  abilities  and  much  influence.  I  really 
think,  if  Congress  does  not  suddenly  adjourn,  I  shall  pass 
the  bills,  one  asking  for  5,000,000  acres  of  the  public  sur- 
veyed lands  for  the  curable  and  incurable  indigent  insane, 
and  the  other  praying  for  2,000,000  acres  for  the  blind  and 
the-  deaf  and  dumb.  Shall  I  not  be  happy,  if  I  get  all 
this !  " 

To  MRS.  ROBERT  HARE. 

"  WASHINGTON,  July  21,  1848. 

"  You  who  understand  me,  you  who  always  sympathize 
with  my  anxieties  and  rejoice  in  my  successes,  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  my  whole  committee,  even  the  impracticable 
Colonel  Benton,  concurred  in  my  5,000,000  acre  bill,  and  it 
was  read  this  morning  in  the  Senate.  .  .  . 

"  The  greatest  difficulty  in  the  Senate  is  already  sur- 
mounted. I  feel  gratified  beyond  expression  for  this  much. 
The  new  Democratic  movement  in  the  Northern  States  has 
threatened  the  safety  of  the  whole  measure.  Colonel  Benton 
was  giving  me  much  anxiety.  I  went  to  him ;  he  put  me  off 
with  promises  to  do  for  me  all  that  was  feasible  under  the 
circumstances.  '  Sir,  I  have  not  come  to  ask  any  favor  for 
myself,  not  the  smallest;  I  ask  for  yourself,  your  State, 
your  people.  Sir,  you  are  a  Democrat,  and  profess  above  all 
others  to  support  the  interests  of  the  people,  the  multitude, 
the  poor.  This  is  the  opportunity  of  showing  the  country 
how  far  profession  and  practice  correspond.  Reject  this 
measure,  you  trample  on  the  rights  of  the  poor,  you  crush 
them ;  sustain  it,  and  their  blessings  shall  echo  round  your 
pillow  when  the  angel  of  the  last  hour  comes  to  call  you  to 


174  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

the  other  life  of  action  and  progress ! '  *  My  dear  Miss  Dix, 
I  will  do  all  I  can  ! '  '  Then,  sir,  the  bill  and  the  measure 
are  safe ! ' 

"  I  found  last  week  my  strength  sinking  under  my  anxie- 
ties. I,  you  know,  am  never  sanguine,  and  feel  confidence 
only  when  a  bill  passes  into  an  act,  and  is  sealed  by  Gov- 
ernor or  President." 

Alas!  the  great  undertaking  on  which  Miss  Dix 
had  now  embarked  was  destined  to  be  a  long  and 
baffling  one.  Her  usual  sagacity  had  been  displayed 
in  the  fear  she  had  expressed,  "  The  new  Democratic 
movement  in  the  Northern  States  has  threatened  the 
safety  of  the  whole  measure."  This  especial  move- 
ment, so  dreaded  by  her,  was  a  rising  popular  agitation 
to  arrest  the  hand  of  Congress  in  the  free  disposition 
it  was  making  of  the  public  domain,  and  embodied  a 
war  cry  sure  to  tell  with  electric  effect.  There  still 
remained  unsold  a  thousand  million  acres  of  the  public 
lands,  and  the  cry  raised  was  that  these  vast  areas  must 
be  sacredly  held  for  the  present  and  prospective  ben- 
efit of  the  poor  man.  It  was  robbery  of  the  poor  to 
deed  them  away  to  railroad,  canal,  or  general  improve- 
ment companies,  or  to  let  them  fall  into  the  hands  of 
greedy  speculators  who  would  swiftly  advance  their 
price.  The  actual  settler  on  the  spot,  the  settler  eager 
to  hew  for  himself  and  family  a  farm  out  of  the  wil- 
derness, —  he  was  the  real  one  to  consider,  and  to  him 
should  these  lands  be  sold  at  the  fixed  and  unalterable 
price  of  $1.25  or  11.50  an  acre.  Lands  granted  to 
railroads,  and  lying  along  their  lines,  were  sure  to  go 
up  at  once  to  $ 2.50  an  acre,  or  even  more !  This  was 
robbery  of  the  poor  to  enrich  the  powerful ! 

Of  course,  it  helped  little  to  argue  that,  without  the 
aid  of  railways  and  canals,  the  land  would  prove  of 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  175 


little  actual  value  to  the  settler,  or,  further,  that 
out  the  establishment  of  public  schools,  the  next  gen- 
eration would  lapse  into  practical  barbarism.  These 
were  too  recondite  thoughts  for  popular  apprehension. 
It  needed  an  orator  of  very  moderate  ability  to  fire 
the  public  imagination  with  a  dramatic  picture  of  the 
Hyder  Ali  devastation  wrought  over  boundless  regions 
by  the  rapacious  invasions  of  corporations,  while  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  the  genius  of  Edmund  Burke 
would  have  sufficed  to  picture  with  adequate  effect  the 
spectacle  of  the  poor  man's  cart  otherwise  stranded 
up  to  the  hubs  in  mud,  or  that  of  his  hay  and  corn 
rotting,  or  his  butter,  milk,  and  eggs  valueless,  for 
want  of  an  attainable  market.  Land  was  land,  wher- 
ever situated,  and  $2.50  an  acre  was  a  dollar  more 
than  $1.50.  The  power  of  this  outcry,  then,  to  para- 
lyze subservient  politicians  was  one  Miss  Dix  fully  ap- 
preciated from  the  moment  it  began  to  be  heard. 

It  can  readily  be  seen,  therefore,  that  it  was  a  sea 
of  stormy  passions  on  which  she  had  launched  her 
5,000,000  acre  bill.  She  was,  so  to  speak,  between 
two  fires.  On  the  one  hand,  the  agrarian  war  cry 
which  had  been  raised  in  the  Eastern  States  would  be 
sure  to  frighten  a  large  class  of  Democratic  politicians 
from  incurring  popular  wrath  by  voting  away  another 
acre  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fierce  material  in- 
terests of  syndicates  of  land  speculators  would  stimu- 
late them  to  fight  against  the  intrusion  of  any  new 
measure  that  threatened  to  swell  the  amount  of  public 
grants  they  sought  to  confine  to  their  own  private 
channels. 

By  the  courtesy  of  Congress,  a  special  alcove  in  the 
Capitol  Library  was  set  apart  for  Miss  Dix's  use,  and 
there  was  she  daily  on  hand  to  converse  with  mem- 


176  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

bers.  The  thought  of  the  scenes  that  must  have  been 
witnessed  in  that  quiet  alcove  awakens  a  longing  that 
some  picturesque  record  of  them  might  have  been 
preserved.  Certainly,  the  contrast  between  the  com- 
mon experience  of  a  Senator  or  member  of  the  House, 
as  a  party  man  beset  on  every  hand  by  those  fiercely 
urging  political  or  material  schemes,  and  tossed  to  and 
fro  by  alternate  promises  and  threats  of  what  would 
ensue  if  he  did,  or  did  not,  vote  in  this  way  or  that, 
and  his  experience  when  he  found  himself  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  quiet,  low-voiced,  entreating,  yet  com- 
manding woman,  speaking  as  out  of  a  higher  realm  to 
him  to  "do  justice,  love  mercy,  and  thus  walk  hum- 
bly with  his  God,"  must  have  been  most  impressive. 
No  wonder,  then,  that  member  after  member  was 
brought  over  to  promise  her  that,  in  the  fierce  strug- 
gle going  on  as  to  the  disposition  of  lands  soon  to  be 
the  future  seat  of  empire,  he  would  never  lose  sight 
of  the  piteous  claims  of  the  helpless  ones  for  whom 
she  was  pleading. 

To  many  of  Miss  Dix's  friends  in  various  parts  of 
the  Union  —  particularly  to  those  who,  as  themselves 
superintendents  of  insane  asylums,  were  thoroughly 
alive  to  the  import  of  her  action  —  it  seemed  an  as- 
sured fact  that  her  bill  would  speedily  pass  both 
houses  of  Congress,  and  receive  the  signature  of  the 
President.  Rejoicing  in  the  thought  that  her  exhaust- 
ing labors  would  soon  be  over,  and  that,  after  crown- 
ing them  with  this  magnificent  success  in  securing  full 
provision  for  ages  to  come  for  the  indigent  insane,  she 
would  now  be  able  to  enter  on  a  period  of  rest,  the 
question  had  already  arisen  among  them  as  to  the 
next  field  for  the  exercise  of  her  invaluable  energies. 
Brief  at  best,  they  knew,  would  be  the  season  of  recu- 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  177 

peration  to  which  she  would  consent,  for  in  this  great 
cause  she  literally  "lived,  and  moved,  and  had  her 
being."  What  farther  service,  then,  could  she  render 
it?  The  view  taken  by  one  large  and  benevolent 
mind  will  be  found  in  the  following  letter  from  Dr. 
Luther  V.  Bell,  of  the  McLean  Asylum,  Somerville, 

Mass. :  — 

"  MCLEAN  ASYLUM,  December  29,  1848. 

"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  Your  friends  cannot  but  trust  that 
these  terribly  severe  labors  may  be  nearly  at  a  close.  And 
so,  released  by  the  actual  accomplishment  or  encouraging 
inception  of  your  labors,  how  much  more  remains  to  be 
done,  which  no  one  but  you  can  do !  The  aggregation  of 
misery  and  misfortune,  of  which  you  have  sounded  the 
depths,  and  have  done  so  much  to  alleviate,  affords  yet  an 
almost  boundless  field  of  labor  with  the  pen,  if  possible  of 
more  moment  than  any  present  relief  through  personal  de- 
votion. In  a  country  rushing  upon  the  crowded  population, 
the  crimes,  the  miseries,  of  the  Old  World  with  gigantic 
strides,  cannot  something  be  done  which  shall  tell  to  all 
future  time,  by  informing  the  world,  at  least  the  wise  and 
good  of  the  world,  how  these  monster  evils  can  be  grappled 
with? 

"  Is  not  our  want  of  fixed  principles  owing  to  our  want 
of  facts  ?  Now,  it  seems  to  me  that  when  you  have  finished 
the  specific  course  laid  out  for  yourself,  if  you  could,  in  the 
light  of  all  your  personal  experience  of  human  suffering, 
take  a  year  and  sit  down  to  the  composition  of  a  volume 
which  should  meet  the  emergency  alluded  to,  you  might 
accomplish  more  than  in  any  other  way.  A  personal  narra- 
tive of  your  last  ten  years'  life  would  contain  just  the  need- 
ful elements,  if  the  fair  conclusions  could  be  eliminated  from 
it,  which  you  alone  could  do. 

"  Accept,  dear  madam,  our  heartfelt  regards  and  sincer- 
est  prayers.  Yours  truly, 

"  LUTHER  V.  BELL." 


178  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

What  she  should  turn  her  mind  to  after  the  pas- 
sage of  her  5,000,000  acre  bill  was,  however,  the  last 
thought  with  Miss  Dix  during  her  protracted  labors 
throughout  the  Congressional  session  of  1848-49. 
First  must  the  bill  be  passed  ;  then  would  it  be  time 
enough  to  ask,  "  What  next  ?  "  She  understood  the 
working  of  legislative  affairs  far  more  thoroughly  than 
did  her  sanguine  friends.  Already,  January  30,  1849, 
had  she  expressed  her  own  view  of  the  actual  situa- 
tion in  a  letter  to  her  brother  Joseph :  - 

"  Specially  and  prominently,  at  this  particular  time,  I  am 
watching  and  guarding  the  5,000,000  bill.  Through  the 
courtesy  of  my  friends  in  the  Senate  and  House,  a  special 
committee  room  is  assigned  to  my  use  in  the  Capitol.  I  am. 
neither  sanguine  nor  discouraged.  I  think  the  bill  may  be 
deferred  till  next  session.  A  new  difficulty  is  to  be  com- 
bated, the  President  [James  K.  Polk]  having  declared 
to  his  Cabinet  that  he  will  veto  all  and  every  land  bill  which 
does  not  make  a  provisional  payment  to  the  general  govern- 
ment. I  suppose  this  will  be  gotten  over  by  a  small  pre- 
mium upon  every  acre  sold.  I,  fortunately,  am  on  good  terms 
with  Mrs.  Polk  and  the  President,  knowing  well  all  their 
family  friends  in  Tennessee  and  North  Carolina.  The  Vice- 
President,  Mr.  Dallas,  the  intimate  associate  of  many  of  my 
Philadelphia  friends,  is  warmly  in  favor  of  the  bill.  I  have 
decidedly  declined  the  interposition  of  the  State  legislatures, 
preferring  to  rely  on  the  '  uninstructed  '  deliberations  and 
acts  of  the  two  branches  of  Congress.  The  public  interest 
is  involved  for  all  the  States,  and  those  who  will  vote  nega- 
tively do  so  on  constitutional  grounds,  imaginarily  involving 
the  federal  integrity." 

"  Neither  sanguine  nor  discouraged  !  "  In  this  state 
of  mind  Miss  Dix  worked  steadily  throughout  the  ses- 
sion. Every  day  witnessed  fresh  accessions  to  the 
ranks  of  her  supporters,  and  she  no  doubt  had  an  ac- 


THE  FIVE  MILLION  ACRE  BILL.  179 

tual  majority  of  members  of  both  houses  with  her. 
But  many  of  them  were  halting  and  half-hearted.  The 
agrarian  cry  had  carried  consternation  into  the  ranks 
of  the  Democratic  party.  They  must  wait  till  the 
popular  excitement  had  abated,  and  to  this  end  a 
"masterly  inactivity"  seemed  the  policy  dictated. 
The  bill  was  deferred  and  deferred,  and  finally  al- 
lowed to  lapse.  Still  Miss  Dix  bated  no  jot  of  faith 
or  hope.  To  her,  this  was  but  the  first  movement  in 
a  great  campaign.  It  had  suffered  check.  She  would 
appear  on  the  field  again,  and  in  more  solid  phalanx. 
A  strong  impression  had  been  made,  an  impression  so 
strong  that  but  for  untoward  circumstances  it  would 
have  resulted  in  decisive  action. 

"  What  though  the  field  be  lost  ? 
All  is  not  lost." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  12,225,000  ACRE  BILL.      (SESSIONS  1850-51.) 

AT  the  outset  of  the  session  of  1850,  Miss  Dix  for 
the  second  time  memorialized  Congress  in  behalf  of 
the  indigent  insane  of  the  United  States,  as  well  as 
of  the  indigent  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb.  The 
44  tonic  of  opposition  "  had  acted  with  its  usual  invig- 
orating effect,  and  she  now  came  forward,  not  as  be- 
fore with  a  bill  for  5,000,000  acres  of  the  public  do- 
main, but  with  a  bill  for  12,225,000  acres,  —  of  which 
10,000,000  should  enure  to  the  benefit  of  the  insane, 
2,225,000  to  that  of  the  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb. 
A  favorable  report  on  the  Memorial  was  at  once  made, 
and  every  prospect  looked  promising  of  its  speedy  suc- 
cessful passage.  From  the  press,  and  from  enlight- 
ened public  sentiment  all  over  the  land,  came  strong 
indorsements  of  the  measure.  Likewise,  at  the  annual 
conference  of  the  "  Medical  Superintendents  of 
American  Institutions  for  the  Insane  "  the  following 
vote  was  unanimously  passed :  — 

"  Resolved,  —  That  this  Association  regards  with  deep  in- 
terest the  progress  of  the  magnificent  project  which  has 
been,  and  continues  to  be,  urged  by  Miss  D.  L.  Dix  on  the 
consideration  of  Congress,  proposing  the  grant  of  a  portion 
of  the  public  domain  by  the  federal  government,  the  pro- 
ceeds of  which  are  to  be  devoted  to  the  endowment  of  the 
public  charities  throughout  the  country,  and  that  it  meets 
with  our  unqualified  sanction. 

"  THOMAS  S.  KIRKBRIDE,  Se-cretary." 


THE  12,225 flOO  ACRE  BILL.  181 

Once  again  was  Miss  Dix  in  her  old  place  in  the 
alcove  of  the  Capitol  Library.  With  her  the  day 
always  began  at  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when,  on  rising,  she  sacredly  set  apart  the  first  hour 
for  her  religious  devotions.  In  the  most  hurried  time 
of  work  or  travel  she  would  never  intermit  this  habit, 
feeling  that  when,  frayed  in  spirit  through  pressure 
of  care,  the  virtue  had  gone  out  of  her,  she  must 
faint  and  utterly  fall  but  for  refuge  in  this  mount 
of  prayer.  "  God  was  her  present  help  in  time  of 
trouble."  Rarely  speaking  of  her  personal  religious 
feelings  except  in  confidential  hours,  religion  was 
yet  the  breath  of  her  life.  Passionately  fond  of 
hymns,  and  with  a  memory  stored  with  them,  from 
the  early  Latin  hymns  of  the  Church  and  onward, 
through  those  of  Bernard  of  Cluny  in  the  Middle 
Ages  and  the  rich  stores  of  the  German  mystics  and 
later  Moravians,  to  the  hymns  of  Wesley,  Faber, 
Whittier,  and  Bowring  in  more  recent  days,  she  rose 
on  their  wings  into  a  realm  of  peace  and  thanksgiving 
in  which,  for  the  time  at  least,  all  the  struggle  and  sor- 
row of  earth  were  hushed. 

Her  hour,  however,  of  devotion  over,  the  late  kneel- 
ing and  dependent  woman  was  forthwith  another  be- 
ing. Once  again  the  sense  of  naked  moral  responsi- 
bility had  taken  exclusive  possession  of  her,  and  every 
nerve  of  action  was  on  the  stretch.  Ill  or  well,  in 
pain  or  in  temporary  relief  from  pain,  on  herself  alone 
she  felt  it  to  depend  whether  a  vast  cry  of  misery 
should  continue  to  rise  and  beat  in  vain  against  a 
brazen  vault,  or  be  heard  and  answered,  comforted 
and  stilled. 

By  the  hour  of  breakfast,  at  eight  o'clock,  she  had 
despatched  the  daily  stint  of  her  immense  correspon- 


182  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

dence,  now  embracing  the  needs  and  problems  of  asy- 
lums in  twenty  States,  and  ten  o'clock  saw  her  seated 
in  her  chair  in  the  alcove.  There  for  four  or  five 
hours  on  the  stretch,  often  through  the  intolerable 
heats  of  a  July,  or  August,  session,  would  she  pa- 
tiently reason  with,  instruct,  and  entreat  the  mem- 
bers brought  in  to  see  her.  She  was  at  this  period 
of  life  forty-eight  years  old,  although  her  rich  brown 
hair  showed  scarcely  a  line  of  white,  and  her  blue 
gray  eyes,  so  large  and  dilating  in  the  pupils  as  often 
to  be  mistaken  for  black,  retained  all  their  range 
of  expression  from  lightning-swift  decision  to  tender 
compassion.  Patience  and  a  sweet  conciliatory  spirit 
were  now  the  needful  weapons  of  a  nature  constitu- 
tionally high-strung  and  imperious.  Infinitely  weari- 
some was  it,  this  going  over  the  same  ground  a 
thousand  times  and  replying  to  the  same  stereotyped 
objections.  The  head  might  throb,  the  old  sharp  pain 
in  the  chest  might  pierce,  the  heat  of  95°  to  100° 
might  threaten  collapse  of  brain.  Still,  to  give  way 
for  a  moment  and  suffer  any  irritability  of  physical 
fibre,  any  impatience  of  scorn  at  political  subserviency 
to  interrupt  the  even  flow  of  persuasion  and  entreaty, 
might  be  to  make  an  enemy,  not  of  herself  —  this 
was  nothing  —  but  of  her  sacred  cause. 

Miss  Dix  had  studied  the  art  of  cogent  statement 
and  vital  appeal  as  few  orators  study  it.  It  was  not 
by  nature  hers,  except  on  the  condition  of  the  varied 
and  often  contradictory  elements  of  her  character  be- 
coming fused  in  the  heat  of  a  great  idea.  But  in 
those  days  of  impassioned  activity  she  had  mastered 
this  art  to  a  rare  degree.  Few  ever  recognized  more 
clearly  the  power  of  a  fit  word  than  she.  In  her 
reading,  she  habitually  noted  down  every  telling 


THE  12#25,000  ACRE  BILL.  183 

phrase,  till  her  vocabulary  became  full,  exact,  and 
varied.  Besides,  her  life  for  now  many  years  had 
been  one  long  school  of  practice  in  dealing  with  every 
type  of  human  character. 

None  the  less,  this  sedulous  cultivation  of  speech 
was,  in  her  case,  at  the  last  remove  from  any  trace  of 
rhetorical  display.  Her  nature  was  too  intense,  too 
forceful,  too  straightforward  to  admit  for  a  moment 
of  this.  She  studied  language  as  the  soldier  grinds 
his  sword,  to  make  it  cut.  Those  who  heard  her  on 
the  rare  occasions,  except  on  Sundays  in  prisons, 
when  she  ever  made  an  address  of  any  length,  —  on 
occasions,  for  example,  when  she  would  call  together 
the  attendants  and  nurses  in  a  new  asylum,  to  speak 
to  them  about  their  sacred  duties  —  say  they  never 
listened  to  such  moving  speech  from  human  lips. 
Her  auditory  would  be  wrought  to  mingled  tears  and 
exultation,  as  though  in  their  merciful  vocation  the 
divine  privilege  of  the  very  call  of  Jesus,  to  be  eyes 
to  the  blind  and  feet  to  the  lame,  had  descended  to 
them  from  out  the  heavens.  And  yet  this  was  the 
same  woman,  who,  at  times  of  weariness  or  self-con- 
centration, would  leave  no  other  impression  onjmany 
but  that  she  was  hard  and  unsympathetic. 

The  hot  summer  of  the  session  of  1850  was  wearily 
wearing  away,  but  still  Miss  Dix  kept  up  heart  and 
hope.  Her  bill  had  actually  passed  by  a  full  majority 
the  House  of  Representatives,  the  popular  branch,  of 
which  she  stood  in  the  greater  fear  as  more  sure  to  be 
affected  by  the  immediate  political  passions  of  the  day. 
There  was  to  be  farther  deliberation  in  the  Senate.  In 
this  body,  however,  she  felt  sure  of  a  victory,  unless  in 
the  press  of  business  in  the  last  days  of  the  session  her 
bill  should  be  crowded  out  and  so  "  deferred." 


184  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  Z.  DIX. 

As  late  in  the  season,  then,  as  August  29,  1850, 
she  is  found  replying  to  a  friend,  —  begging  her  to 
seek  change  and  recuperation  in  the  more  bracing  air 
of  the  North,  —  in  a  tone  marked  by  the  exhaustion 
under  which  she  was  suffering,  but  still  full  of  her 
usual  patience  of  resignation :  — 

u  None  can  tell  what  a  mountain  will  be  lifted  from  my 
breast  if  my  bills  pass.  I  shall  feel  almost  as  if  I  could  say, 
4  Lord,  let  now  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation ! '  But  I  recollect  that  my  times 
and  seasons  are  His,  and  for  His  work.  He  will  do  as 
seems  to  Himself  good.  I  ought  to  be  ready  to  meet  all 
changes,  all  events,  but  the  troubles  of  the  miserable  world 
would,  if  now  no  way  were  opened  for  their  alleviation, 
make  the  hour  of  death  mournful  to  me." 

Another  fortnight  of  the  "  hope  deferred  that  mak- 
eth  the  heart  sick,"  and,  at  the  close  of  the  session, 
she  is  forced  to  write  to  the  same  friend  these  few  sad 
words :  "  My  bill  is  deferred  to  the  first  month  of  the 
next  session,  the  second  Monday.  Pray  that  my  pa- 
tience do  not  fail  utterly." 

Patience  did  not  fail.  Once  again,  the  winter  ses- 
sion of  1851  saw  Miss  Dix  at  her  post.  Delay  suc- 
ceeded delay  in  getting  the  bill  called  up.  But  at  last, 
February  11,  was  penned  the  following  letter  to  her 
friend,  Miss  Heath.  How  thrilling  a  picture  it  gives 
of  what  Miss  Dix  had  herself  characterized  as  the 
feverish  spirit  of  the  gambling  table,  —  of  a  scene 
rather,  as  it  rose  before  her  impassioned  mind,  in 
which  the  God  of  Mercy  and  the  Power  of  Darkness 
were  playing  for  a  stupendous  stake  of  human  succor 
or  human  misery.  The  letter  is  hastily  dashed  off,  at 
intervals,  from  her  alcove  in  the  Capitol  Library. 


THE  12^5,000  ACRE  BILL.  185 

"  WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  February  11,  1851. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  My  bill  is  up  in  the  Senate,  I 
awaiting  the  result  with  great  anxiety,  but  a  calmness  which 
astonishes  myself. — 

"  A  motion  to  lay  on  the  Speaker's  table  is  just  lost,  32  to 
14.  It  is  said  that  this  is  the  test  vote.  They  are  speaking 
on  amendments.  —  The  danger  is  from  debate.  —  I  dread 
Chase  of  Ohio.  — 

"  Mr.  Mason  of  Virginia  sends  me  word  the  bill  will 
pass.  — 

"  A  message -from  Mr.  Pearce,  who  says  the  bill  will,  will 
pass  —  ah !  if  it  should  fail  now.  — 

"Mr.  Shields  just  comes  to  say  the  bill  will  pass.  —  You 
know  not  how  terrible  this  suspense  !  — I  am  perfectly  calm, 
and  as  cold  as  ice. 

"4  P.  M.  The  bill  has  passed  the  Senate  beautifully. 
A  large  majority,  more  than  two  to  one  !  —  thirty-six  yeas 
to  sixteen  nays." 

A  glorious  victory  gained  in  the  Senate !  At  the 
last  session  she  had  achieved  an  equal  one  in  the 
House  of  Representatives.  But  before  a  bill  can  be- 
come an  act,  it  must  pass  both  Houses  in  the  same 
session  and  be  signed  by  the  President.  There  re- 
mained, then,  the  action  of  the  Hou§e  of  Representa- 
tives. What  will  that  action  be  ?  It  is  the  popular 
branch,  its  term  of  office  is  shorter  than  that  of  the 
Senate,  its  members  are  more  sensitive  to  the  tempo- 
rary wind  of  the  hour.  Of  the  real  convictions  of  a 
large  majority  of  these  members  there  is  no  question. 
Will  they  be  brave  enough  to  act  on  them  ?  Their 
proceedings  are  singularly  vacillating  and  at  cross- 
purposes.  They  are  letting  "  I  dare  not "  wait  upon 
"  I  would."  Now  the  question  of  the  immediate  con- 
sideration of  the  bill  is  defeated  by  the  "  rigid  enforce- 
ment of  the  rules,"  and  now,  in  turn,  twice  are  the 


186  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

rules  suspended  by  a  vote  of  the  same  House,  —  the 
first  time  by  105  nays  to  50  yeas,  the  second  by  108 
to  70.  The  opportunity  is  thus  again  on  hand,  but 
still  some  subtle  political  fear  is  paralyzing  action. 
Each  time  the  House  proceeds  to  other  business.  No, 
it  dares  not  face  the  question.  Delay  is  interposed 
on  delay,  till  the  session  is  well  nigh  over,  and  the  bill 
will  now  probably  lapse. 

Patient,  travailing  martyr,  gird  up  thy  loins  and 
nerve  thy  indomitable  spirit  for  a  second  cruel  defeat. 
It  came.  And  yet  she  never  gave  way  to  despair. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

AGAIN  THE  12,225,000  ACRE  BILL.       (SESSIONS  1852,  1854.) 

NEARLY  two  years  elapsed  after  the  second  miscar- 
riage of  her  Land  Bill  before  Miss  Dix  ventured  to 
appeal  again  to  Congress,  and  then,  as  far  as  1852— 
1853  was  concerned,  only  in  a  tentative  way.  In  vain 
had  she  exercised  the  spell  of  her  magnetic  personal- 
ity over  the  minds  of  Representatives  of  all  the  States 
of  the  Union.  While  in  her  presence,  and  under  the 
sway  of  her  spirit,  the  superior  number  of  both  houses 
had  given  her  assurances  of  support ;  had  indeed 
given  her,  when  the  test  of  the  vote  came,  a  large  ma- 
jority, though  not  unitedly  in  the  same  session.  But 
once  back  among  their  associates,  and  delivered  over 
to  partisan  newspapers  and  menacing  letters  from 
constituents,  enough  were  always  wavering  to  be  glad 
to  seize  every  pretext  for  delay,  and  thus  imperil  the 
cause.  She  felt,  then,  that  she  must  wait.  Mean- 
while, she  was  indefatigably  at  work  in  the  Southern, 
Middle,  and  Western  States,  winning  the  memorable 
series  of  victories  that  have  been  already  narrated  in 
previous  chapters. 

With  the  opening,  however,  of  the  session  of  1854, 
all  the  signs  looked  favorable  for  renewing  the  na- 
tional campaign.  The  first  fierce  excitement  in  the 
Democratic  party  over  the  land  issue  had  in  a  measure 
subsided,  while  the  unexampled  series  of  triumphs  she 
herself  had  achieved  in  so  many  States  had  steadily 


188  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

increased  in  Congress  the  moral  ascendancy  of  her 
name.  Five  thousand  copies  of  her  Memorial  were  at 
once  ordered  to  be  printed,  and  strong  supporters  in 
each  house  stepped  to  the  front  to  champion  her  cause. 
She  now  worked  with  buoyant  hope,  seeing  assured 
victory  ahead.  Still,  she  jealously  watched  every  step, 
and  more  eagerly  than  ever  studied  the  character  of 
every  Congressman,  concentrating  her  personal  efforts 
on  those  she  most  feared.  It  was  the  proudest  and 
happiest  year  of  her  life,  seemingly  to  her  the  crested 
tidal  wave,  lifting  and  bearing  on  in  irresistible  flood 
the  cumulative  results  of  fourteen  years  of  toil,  anx- 
iety, and  prayer. 

The  first  signal  victory  came,  March  9,  1854,  when 
her  bill  passed  the  Senate  by  a  large  majority.  No 
other  record  of  her  feeling  over  this  triumph  remains 
than  a  hasty  report  to  her  friend  Miss  Heath.  It  is 
brief  and  simple,  but  full  of  her  habitual  devoutness 
of  spirit. 

"  WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  March  9,  1854. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  Yours  this  morning  received  just  when 
I  was  putting  pen  to  paper  to  tell  you  that  my  bill  has 
passed  the  Senate  by  more  than  two  thirds  majority,  25 
to  12.  Congratulations  flow  in.  I,  in  my  heart,  think  the 
very  opponents  are  glad;  and,  as  I  rejoice  quietly  and 
silently,  I  feel  that  it  is  '  the  Lord  who  has  made  my  moun- 
tain to  stand  strong.' " 

Still,  the  House  of  Representatives  remained  to  be 
carried.  There  she  feared  the  sunken  rocks  on  which 
the  bark  of  her  hopes  might  again  be  shattered.  Five 
months  of  protracted  suspense  must  she  linger  through 
before  at  last,  in  August,  the  decisive  vote  came.  It 
was  victory  for  the  bill.  Once  again,  a  brief  note  to 
Miss  Heath  records  the  fact. 


AGAIN  THE  12#25JOOO  ACRE  BILL.  189 

"  WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  August  28,  1854. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  As  you  know,  my  ten  million  acre 
bill  (rather  12,225,000),  has  passed  the  House,  98  to  84, 
and  is  in  its  final  passage  through  the  Senate.  My  District 
Hospital  Bill  has  also  passed  the  Senate  unanimously,  for 
$100,000,  for  the  relief  of  the  insane  of  the  Army  and 
Navy,  and  those  of  the  District." 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that,  in  this  year-long  series  of 
congressional  campaigns,  twice  in  the  Senate,  and 
twice  in  the  House,  —  both  being  Democratic  by  large 
majorities,  —  had  Miss  Dix  carried  her  bill  trium- 
phantly through.  This  last  time,  happily,  success  had 
been  secured  in  both  houses  in  the  same  session  ;  and 
now  the  bill  but  awaited  the  signature  of  the  President 
to  become  law. 

Twelve  million,  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  thou- 
sand acres  of  God's  earth  rescued,  and  consecrated 
forever  to  the  succor  of  the  most  sorely-afflicted  and 
cruelly-entreated  of  earth's  creatures !  Who  can  grasp 
in  imagination  the  full  significance  of  this  !  None 
surely,  even  by  the  most  distant  approach,  in  compar- 
ison with  th!8  merciful  woman  who  for  fourteen  years 
had  traversed  the  dread  Inferno  in  which  these  miser- 
able wretches  lay  in  chains  and  fire,  and  whose  very 
dreams  had  been  haunted  by  their  cries.  Divided 
among  the  several  States,  and  carefully  protected  so 
as  to  share  in  the  steadily  augmenting  value  of  land, 
this  vast  domain  meant  stately  buildings  rising  on 
every  hand,  with  every  appliance  to  minister  to  the 
"  mind  diseased  ; "  meant  all  the  resources  of  advan- 
cing science  and  humanity  in  sacred  league  to 

"  Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow, 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain;  " 

meant  sunshine,  grass,  flowers,  singing  birds,  and  bab- 


190  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

bling  brooks  in  emulous  accord  to  weave  together 
"  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness." 
And  all  this  had  been  won  by  the  hand  of  a  single 
frail  and  suffering  woman.  Hers  the  prophetic  fore- 
sight, hers  the  intrepid  courage,  hers  the  unwearying 
patience,  hers  the  force  of  angelic  persuasion,  through 
the  united  power  of  which,  "  troubled  on  every  side 
yet  not  distressed,  cast  down  but  not  destroyed,"  she 
had  wrought  this  triumph  of  mercy. 

Congratulations  fast  flowed  in.  Already  in  1850, 
had  Dr.  Thomas  S.  Kirkbride,  that  steadfast  light 
through  the  darkest  hours  of  the  history  of  insanity  in 
America,  assured  her,  "  I  have  full  confidence  your 
bill  will  pass,  and  nothing  but  the  supreme  selfishness 
of  politicians  —  which  is  genuine  insanity  as  to  the 
welfare  of  the  country,  of  the  very  worst  kind  —  keeps 
Congress  from  doing  some  good  acts  which  would 
tend  to  redeem  them  in  the  estimation  of  the  people." 
But  now  he  could  rejoicingly  write,  "  A  thousand  con- 
gratulations on  the  success  of  your  noble,  disinterested 
and  persevering  efforts !  There  is  some  virtue  yet 
in  Congress,  and  a  large  hope  for  the  Kepublic." 

It  seemed  at  last  that  the  especial  work  of  Miss 
Dix  in  the  United  States  was  over,  at  once  triumphant, 
and  dying  through  its  very  fullness  of  triumph.  The 
letters  which  now  poured  in  upon  her  from  superin- 
tendents and  philanthropic  men  and  women  were  full 
of  the  tenderest  expression  of  a  sense  of  relief,  that 
henceforth  she  would  be  freed  from  the  necessity  of 
such  exhausting  labors.  No  more  need  now  of  these 
lonely  journeyings,  these  explorations  of  the  depths  of 
human  misery  in  remote  and  hidden  places,  these 
long  and  weary  wrestlings  with  successive  State  legis- 
latures. 


AGAIN  THE  12,225,000  ACRE  BILL.  191 

She  was,  in  truth,  in  a  condition  of  extreme  exhaus- 
tion when  the  final  victory  came.  But  now  at  last 
had  arrived  the  day  of  honorable  discharge  from  the 
service.  She  could  receive  it,  brimful  of  the  sense  of 
thanksgiving,  her  heart  filled  with  the  "  peace  of  God 
passing  understanding"  for  all  she  had  been  per- 
mitted to  do.  Then,  rested  and  recuperated,  she  could 
write  out  the  wonderful  story  of  her  life,  and,  as  her 
friend  Dr.  Luther  V.  Bell  had  urged  upon  her,  make 
a  book  that  would  do  more  for  the  cause  she  so  loved 
than  any  further  practical  action.  So  things  looked, 
in  that  supreme  hour  of  success,  to  all  Miss  Dix's 
sympathetic  friends. 

And  now,  suddenly  and  all  unlocked  for,  out  of 
the  clear,  radiant  sky,  without  a  cloud  to  presage  its 
advent,  there  fell  a  lightning  bolt.  The  President, 
Franklin  Pierce,  so  the  incredible  rumor  ran,  had 
vetoed  the  bill.  A  stroke  of  his  pen,  and  the  bright 
vision  had  vanished.  The  principality  was  gone! 
The  stately  buildings,  the  trained  service  of  science 
and  humanity,  the  sheltering  homes,  everything  but 
the  poor  wretches  who  were  to  have  been  ministered 
to  by  these,  had,  as  by  the  malign  stroke  of  a  magi- 
cian's wand,  been  changed  into  so  many  idle  and  empty 
pictures  of  mirage !  The  struggle  and  oft  times  agony 
of  the  long  years  of  travail  had  aborted  in  nothing ! 

Miss  Dix  fairly  staggered  under  the  blow.  At 
first,  while  it  was  merely  rumor,  she  refused  to  credit 
it.  It  could  not  be !  President  Pierce,  she  insisted, 
had  personally  testified  to  her  his  own  interest  in  the 
measure.  A  veto  so  purely  arbitrary,  so  purely 
founded  in  individual  will,  a  veto  in  the  face  of  such 
great  majorities  where  his  own  party  was  in  the  ascen- 
dency —  no  !  it  could  not  be  !  Had  not  twice  in  the 


192  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

last  four  years,  and  after  protracted  debate,  the  bill 
passed  House  and  Senate  ?  Here  was  the  clear  will 
of  a  humane  and  enlightened  people,  declared  through 
its  representatives.  Impossible,  that  any  single  man 
could  have  the  wanton  cruelty  to  stand  forth  now, 
when  Righteousness  and  Peace  had  thus  kissed  one 
another,  and  cry,  "  I  forbid  the  bans ! "  Alas !  ru- 
mor swiftly  passed  into  stern  reality.  The  bill  had 
been  vetoed. 

For  a  few  days  Miss  Dix  bravely  rallied  from  the 
stroke.  While  a  ray  of  hope  remained  she  was  all 
fire  of  action.  Swiftly  calling  to  her  side  her  most 
powerful  supporters,  she  pressed  upon  them  the  ques- 
tion of  the  possibility  of  still  carrying  the  bill  over 
the  presidential  veto  by  a  two  thirds  majority.  They 
sadly  told  her  no.  There  were  too  many  subservient 
politicians,  to  whom  to  cross  the  will  of  the  executive 
would  mean  political  death.  Then  she  bowed  her 
head,  doing  her  best  to  say,  "  Thy  will,  not  mine,  be 
done ! "  but  sinking  into  a  state  of  such  complete  physi- 
cal prostration  as  to  feel  that  absolute  rest  and  change 
were  the  immediate  question  of  life  or  death  with 
her.  She  was  willing  to  go  away  new,  —  to  go  any- 
where. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   PRESIDENTIAL   VETO. 

AT  the  first  rumor  of  an  impending  veto,  letters  of 
indignant  sympathy  poured  in  upon  Miss  Dix.  "  Is 
it  possible,"  wrote  Dr.  Kirkbride,  "  that  the  President 
can  really  think  of  vetoing  your  bill?  If  he  does, 
ought  he  not  to  expect  to  see  the  ghosts  of  insane 
people  around  his  bed  at  night,  as  long  as  he  lives  ?  " 
This  echoed  the  feeling  of  superintendents  of  asylums 
in  all  quarters,  and  of  philanthropic  men  and  women 
who  understood  the  dire  urgency  of  the  case. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  partisan  press  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party,  even  that  portion  of  it  that  had  lately 
been  loudest  in  the  praise  of  Miss  Dix,  now  rallied 
round  the  President,  and  lauded  his  action  as  the 
acme  of  constitutional  wisdom  and  sobriety.  As  an 
instance  of  the  disgust  this  so  evidently  servile  reac- 
tion awakened  in  the  breasts  of  many  high-minded 
men  and  women,  the  following  extract  from  a  letter 
of  William  Darlington,  of  Pennsylvania,  will  suf- 
fice:— 

"  My  sympathies  have  been  so  long  and  so  fervently  en- 
listed in  behalf  of  your  great  philanthropic  enterprise  — 
now  so  cruelly  thwarted  by  the  Executive  —  that  I  find  it 
difficult  to  express  my  sentiments  in  reference  to  that  pro- 
cedure in  terms  of  moderation.  I  have  lost  all  patience 
with  those  narrow-souled,  caviling  demagogues  who  ever- 
lastingly plead  the  Constitution  against  every  generous 


194  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L    DIX. 

measure,  and  recklessly  trample  it  under  foot  whenever  it 
stands  in  the  way  of  their  selfish  purposes  and  foregone 
conclusions.  .  .  .  But  what  has  more  especially  excited  my 
disgust  and  contempt  in  this  connection  is  the  course  taken 
by  the  servile  partisan  press.  During  the  years  of  your 
untiring  efforts  to  get  the  recently  vetoed  bill  through  the 
two  houses  of  Congress,  the  manufacturers  of  public  opinion 
(so  called)  seized  every  occasion  to  ingratiate  themselves 
with  the  humane  portion  of  the  community  by  lauding  the 
objects  of  Miss  Dix's  bill,  and  heralding  the  disinterested 
services  of  its  benevolent  author  and  advocate.  .  .  .  Had 
the  bill  been  permitted  to  become  a  law,  no  doubt  it  would 
have  been  pronounced  and  claimed  by  the  despicable  echoes 
of  the  presidential  will  and  pleasure  as  one  of  the  noblest 
acts  of  his  administration.  .  .  .  But,  whatever  may  be  the 
result,  no  arbitrary  exercise  of  executive  power,  no  acci- 
dent of  time  nor  chance,  can  deprive  you  of  the  satis- 
faction of  having  nobly  and  faithfully  performed  your 
part  toward  alleviating  the  miseries  incident  to  our  fallen 
race." 

The  objections  taken  by  President  Pierce  to  the 
12,225,000  Acre  Bill  were,  as  duly  set  forth  in  his  veto 
message,  partly  constitutional  and  partly  grounded  in 
expediency.  Beginning  with  an  earnest  declaration 
that  he  had  "  been  compelled  to  resist  the  deep  sym- 
pathies of  his  own  heart  in  favor  of  the  humane  pur- 
poses sought  to  be  accomplished  "  by  the  bill,  he  then 
went  on  to  unfold  the  reasons  that  had  dictated  his 
action.  To  these  reasons  powerful  rejoinders  were 
made  in  the  Senate  and  the  House  of  Representatives 
by  Hon.  John  M.  Clayton,  of  Delaware,  Hon.  Albert 
G.  Brown,  of  Mississippi,  Hon.  Mr.  Badger,  of  North 
Carolina,  and  other  prominent  members. 

Congress,  the  President  declared,  had  power  to 
make  provisions  of  an  eleemosynary  character  within 


THE  PRESIDENTIAL    VETO.  195 

the  limits  of  the  District  of  Columbia,  but  nowhere 
outside  of  it.  This  single  district  was  under  the  espe- 
cial rule  of  government,  and  so  furnished  the  one  ex- 
ception to  an  otherwise  inflexible  law.  At  the  same 
time,  he  insisted  on  the  right  of  Congress  to  grant 
lands  on  a  lavish  scale  for  schools,  colleges,  railroads, 
and  various  objects  of  internal  improvement.  When- 
ever, however,  Congress  had  ventured  to  cross  this 
line,  as  on  two  previous  occasions  it  had  done,  in  Ken- 
tucky and  in  Connecticut,  in  favor  of  the  indigent 
blind  and  the  indigent  deaf  and  dumb,  then  it  had 
transcended  its  power,  and  set  up  unsafe  precedents, 
examples  to  be  avoided  rather  than  followed.  "  If 
Congress  have  power,"  he  then  proceeded,  "  to  make 
provision  for  the  indigent  insane  without  the  limits  of 
this  district,  it  has  the  same  power  to  provide  for  the 
indigent  who  are  not  insane,  and  thus  to  transfer  to 
the  federal  government  the  charge  of  all  the  poor  in 
all  the  States" 

"  The  charge  of  all  the  poor  in  all  the  States !  " 
Here  was  the  alarmist  argument  driven  to  the  last 
extreme.  The  fact  that  a  power  may  be  abused  is 
conclusive  reason  why  it  ought  not  to  exist.  To  this 
it  was  pertinently  replied,  "  Because  Congress  has  the 
power  to  order  six  steam  frigates  to  be  built,  shall 
this  power  be  abrogated  for  fear  it  may  order  sixty  ? 
Because  Congress  may  rightly  declare  war  against 
Spain,  shall  this  power  be  taken  away  because  war 
might  be  declared  against  England,  France,  Italy, 
Germany,  and  Russia,  combined?  A  measure  of 
common  sense  must  be  allowed  for." 

"The  fountains  of  charity,"  continued  President 
Pierce,  "  will  be  dried  up  at  home,  and  the  several 
States,  instead  of  bestowing  their  own  means  on  the 


196  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

social  wants  of  their  own  people,  may  themselves  be- 
come humble  suppliants  for  the  bounty  of  the  federal 
government,  reversing  their  true  relation  to  this 
Union." 

To  this  it  was  answered  by  Hon.  Albert  G.  Brown, 
Senator  from  Mississippi :  — 

"  I  have  a  better  opinion  of  the  States  than  is  here  indi- 
cated. In  ray  opinion,  *  the  fountains  of  their  charity '  are 
not  more  likely  to  be  '  dried  up '  by  grants  of  land  for  the 
benefit  of  the  insane  than  is  their  passion  for  learning  to  be 
extinguished  by  similar  grants  for  school  purposes ;  nor  is 
a  State  more  likely  to  become  *  an  humble  suppliant  for  the 
bounty  of  this  government,'  when  she  receives  a  small  quan- 
tity of  land  for  the  relief  of  suffering  humanity,  than  she  is 
when  she  receives  a  larger  quantity  for  internal  improve- 
ments and  other  purposes.  We  have  seen  that  grants  of 
land  for  school  purposes  have  not  '  dried  up '  the  passion  for 
learning,  but  have  stimulated  it,  and  caused  it  to  flow  in  a 
steadier  and  a  broader  stream." 

"  To  my  mind,  this  is  the  first  land  bill  ever  brought  for- 
ward in  the  true  spirit  of  the  deeds  of  cession.  It  is  the 
first  bill  that  ever  proposed  to  divide  the  lands  among  the 
States  having  in  them  a  common  interest,  share  and  share 
alike.1  ...  I  am  a  new  State  man,  and  I  am  a  just  man. 
And  I  now  say  to  the  new  States,  You  have  no  right  to  take 
from  the  common  fund  for  colleges,  for  schools,  for  rail- 
roads, for  swamp  drainage,  and  for  other  special  purposes 
of  your  own,  and  then  say  to  your  older  sisters,  You  shall 
have  no  part  for  any  purpose  of  yours.  Can  we  receive  for 
our  schools,  and  deny  to  the  old  States  for  their  asylums  ? 
.  .  .  Unless  it  shall  be  shown  that  it  is  unconstitutional  to 

1  Out  of  the,  in  round  numbers,  135,000,000  acres  of  the  public 
domain  which  had  up  to  this  date  been  granted  by  Congress,  practi- 
cally the  whole  had  gone  to  measures  for  the  rapid  development  of 
the  new  States,  while  the  original  thirteen  States  had  received  scarcely 
anything. 


THE  PRESIDENTIAL    VETO.  197 

endow  a  lunatic  asylum  per  se,  it  will  follow  that  if  you  can 
give  to  a  college  in  Alabama  from  the  common  fund,  you 
may  give  to  an  asylum  in  Delaware  from  the  same  fund." 

Pursuing  the  argument  of  his  veto  message,  Presi- 
dent Pierce  next  assumed  the  position  that  all  previous 
grants  of  portions  of  the  public  domain  had  been  for 
"value  received,"  and  therefore  were  not  outright 
gifts.  By  this  he  meant  that  when  conferred  for  edu- 
cational purposes,  railway  and  canal  construction,  etc., 
the  value  of  lands  remaining  to  government  was 
thereby  doubled  in  value,  and  thus  a  quid  pro  quo  se- 
cured. To  this,  it  was  very  sensibly  replied :  — 

"  Value  received  from  whom  ?  Not  from  the  grantees. 
To  them,  the  grant  was  a  naked,  unqualified  gift ;  they  paid 
nothing,  did  not  promise  to  pay  anything.  They  were  gifts 
in  the  broadest,  fullest,  and  most  comprehensive  sense  of  the 
term.  .  .  .  The  fact  that  one  section  of  land  is  doubled  in 
value  by  giving  away  another  section  may  be  a  very  good  ar- 
gument to  justify  the  use  of  an  actual  existing  power.  But 
if  I  have  no  power  to  give  one  section,  it  is  useless  to  tell  me 
how  much  the  gift  will  enhance  the  value  of  the  next  sec- 
tion." 

As  though  half  conscious  how  indistinct  a  line  could 
really  be  drawn  between  the  educational  and  other 
purposes,  to  the  furtherance  of  which  he  admitted 
the  right  of  Congress  to  grant  lands,  and  the  char- 
itable purposes,  in  respect  of  which  he  denied  the  ex- 
istence of  any  such  right,  President  Pierce  now  boldly 
faces  the  issue  by  taking  ground  that,  in  the  matter 
of  the  disposition  of  the  public  lands,  Congress  is  to 
be  regarded  as  nothing  more  than  the  administrator 
of  an  estate,  and  is  to  be  governed  by  precisely  the 
same  considerations  as  would  act  on  the  mind  of  any 
other  "  prudent  proprietor  "  in  the  administration  of 


198  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

his  own  property.  But  now  as  to  the  question  01  the 
President's  consistency  in  the  view  he  takes  of  what  is 
wise  and  what  is  foolish  action  on  the  part  of  his  sup- 
posed "  prudent  proprietor  "  ! 

"Let  us  suppose  [continues  Senator  Brown]  that  the 
President  was  the  prudent  proprietor  of  a  million  of  acres 
of  land  in  Wisconsin,  and  that  he  had  appointed  my  friend, 
the  Senator  from  that  State  (Mr.  Walker),  his  trustee,  with 
power  to  dispose  of  the  lands  as  a  prudent  proprietor  would 
dispose  of  his  own  estate.  The  Senator  sells  a  part  at  auc- 
tion and  some  at  private  sale,  and  the  President  approves 
his  acts,  saying,  *  That  was  prudent ;  you  had  the  power  to 
do  that ! '  He  gives  some  to  a  railroad,  and  the  President 
approves  that.  He  gives  some  to  a  college,  some  to  com- 
mon schools,  some  to  build  a  court-house,  and  some  to  drain 
swamps.  The  President  looks  over  the  whole,  and  says, 
*  This  is  as  a  prudent  proprietor  would  have  done  with  his 
own  estate.  You  had  the  power  to  do  all  this,  and  I  ap- 
prove it.'  Then  the  Senator  gives  a  little  to  an  insane  asy- 
lum. The  President  says,  '  I  must  resist  the  deep  sympa- 
thies of  my  heart  in  behalf  of  the  humane  purposes  of  this 
gift.  It  is  not  as  a  prudent  proprietor  would  have  managed 
his  own  estate  ;  I  disapprove  it !  " 

Indeed,  very  pertinently  here  might  even  the  most 
"  prudent  proprietor  "  have  asked,  in  the  name  of  the 
insane,  what  poor  old  Shylock  asked  in  the  name  of 
his  tribe :  "  Hath  not  a  Jew  eyes  ?  hath  not  a  Jew 
hands,  organs,  dimensions,  senses,  affections,  pas- 
sions ?  "  Do  not  five  hundred  insane  patients  in  an 
asylum,  with  their  medical  superintendents,  nurses, 
stewards,  and  cooks,  eat,  drink,  and  wear  clothing? 
Do  they  not  mean  an  impulse  at  once  given  to  open- 
ing quarries,  burning  brick,  and  hewing  timber  ?  Do 
not  they  create  an  immediate  market  for  the  farmers' 
hay,  beef,  milk,  butter,  eggs,  grain,  and  vegetables  ? 


THE  PRESIDENTIAL    VETO.  199 

Do  they  not  furnish  abundant  goods  for  transporta- 
tion by  railway,  and  promote  business  activity  in  mani- 
f  aid  ways  ?  The  number  of  "  prudent  proprietors " 
who,  in  the  exercise  of  the  purest  selfishness,  would 
voluntarily  give  away  half  of  a  tract  of  land  to  secure 
the  establishment  on  it  of  a  great  insane  asylum,  with 
the  sole  end  in  view  of  enhancing  the  value  of  the 
other  half,  would  be  quite  as  large  as  of  those  who 
would  do  the  like  to  secure  the  location  on  such  lands 
of  a  shoe  or  cotton  factory. 

Read,  therefore,  in  the  light  of  the  powerful  re- 
joinders made  to  it,  as  well  as  in  the  light  of  the  great 
majorities  by  which  Miss  Dix's  bill  had  been  indorsed 
by  a  Democratic  Congress,  the  weak  and  vacillating 
argument  of  President  Pierce's  veto  message  makes 
it  hard  to  account  for  his  action  on  any  t)ther  ground 
than  that  of  personal  idiosyncrasies  of  character  and 
opinion.  It  is  the  veto  more  of  an  individual  than 
of  a  great  public  official. 

Politically,  President  Pierce  was  a  man  actuated  by 
an  almost  virulent  hatred  of  everything  savoring  of 
what  he  would  term  sentimental  legislation.  Elected 
President  on  the  avowed  platform  of  a  "Northern  man 
with  Southern  principles,"  he  had,  in  the  whole  great 
national  issue  between  freedom  and  slavery,  always  in- 
sisted that  a  deaf  ear  should  be  turned  to  anything 
but  the  plea  for  the  narrowest  and  baldest  construc- 
tion of  the  letter  of  the  Constitution.  The  slightest 
intrusion  of  humane  sentiment  into  politics,  and  he 
was  at  once  on  the  verge  of  panic.  Very  naturally, 
then,  he  flew  wild  on  this  occasion.  Begin  with  doing 
anything  for  the  indigent  insane,  and  soon  will  the 
federal  government  have  on  its  hands  the  support  of 
every  sick  man,  every  vagabond,  every  drunkard,  in 


200  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

the  land!  And  so,  long  habituated  to  the  painful 
duty  of  "  resisting  the  deep  sympathies  of  his  heart  in 
behalf  of  the  humane  purposes  "  of  the  antislavery 
agitation,  he  felt  he  must  equally  resist  them  in  the 
case  of  the  12,225,000  Acre  Bill ;  and,  lest  a  worse 
evil  should  come  upon  us,  veto  it  outright. 

None  the  less,  though  thus  defeated  in  the  end  by 
the  (as  she  herself  always  bitterly  felt)  arbitrary  act 
of  a  mere  individual,  the  congressional  achievement 
of  Dorothea  L.  Dix,  as  narrated  in  the  last  four  chap- 
ters, will  always  stand  out  among  the  memorable 
moral  triumphs  of  history.  Everything  that  human 
foresight  could  provide  for  had  been  provided  for  by 
her.  Only,  once  again  was  to  be  justified  the  in- 
scrutable experience,  which  in  all  ages  has  leveled  to 
the  dust  the*  pride  of  man,  "  Nothing  is  certain  but 
the  unforeseen !  " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN  ENGLAND   AGAIN. 

Miss  Dix  now  resolved  to  seek  entire  rest  and 
change.  Her  forces  seemed  for  the  time  being  ut- 
terly spent.  She  would  sail  for  Europe,  and  once 
there  —  well,  let  Providence  determine  for  her,  for 
she  was  too  weary  to  plan  for  herself.  At  least  she 
would  once  again  see  her  dear  old  English  friends, 
the  Rathbones  of  Liverpool,  whose  devotion  had, 
eighteen  years  before,  lifted  her  from  the  brink  of  the 
grave.  As  strength  permitted,  she  would  visit  the 
asylums  of  Europe,  to  learn  from  them  whatever 
might  be  of  future  service  at  home.  Along  with  these 
undefined  projects,  there  floated  in  her  mind  a  vague 
hope  that  she  might  get  to  Palestine.  Religion,  in 
her  mind,  largely  took  the  form  of  fervid  personal 
love  for  him  who  "  went  about  doing  good,"  and  who 
revealed  through  his  own  life  that  the  "greatest  of 
all  is  he  who  is  the  servant  of  all ; "  and  she  always 
yearned  to  tread  the  soil  once  pressed  by  his  blessed 
feet.  But  beyond  these  vague  purposes,  all  lay  unde- 
termined. 

"  Man  never  goes  so  far  as  when  he  knows  not 
whither  he  is  going,"  was  a  maxim  born  of  deep  personal 
experience  in  the  at  once  mystical  and  practical  mind 
of  Oliver  Cromwell.  In  one  shape  or  another,  this 
maxim  has  always  expressed  the  deepest  conviction 
of  natures  in  the  same  breath  self-reliant  and  God- 


202  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

reliant.  None  know  more  clearly  the  limits  of  finite 
ability  ;  and  so,  inevitably,  are  they  led  to  look  upon 
the  part  they  are  called  on  to  play  in  life,  as  the  stout 
ship  captain  looks  upon  his  in  working  his  vessel  across 
the  Atlantic.  His  to  man  the  rudder,  trim  the  sails, 
and  follow  the  compass.  But  beyond  these  personal 
duties  lies  the  whole  incalculable  realm  of  calms  and 
gales,  of  unseen  currents,  of  head  winds  and  fair  winds, 
of  fogs  blotting  out  headland,  sun,  or  stars.  On  these 
must  he  patiently  wait,  meeting  each  as  it  comes,  and 
wrestling  out  of  each  the  best  furtherance  he  can 
wring  from  it.  Once  again  was  the  devout  maxim  to 
justify  itself  in  the  case  of  this  worn  and  well-nigh 
heart-broken  woman,  who  knew  no  more  than  that, 
with  a  mind  ever  eager  to  do  good  as  she  found  op- 
portunity, she  was  perforce  dropping  her  sacred  work 
in  her  native  land,  and  vaguely  reaching  out  after 
rest  and  recuperation  abroad. 

Early  in  September,  1854,  Miss  Dix  set  sail  for 
Liverpool  on  the  steamship  "Arctic,"  the  ill-fated  ship 
that,  on  the  return  voyage,  went  down  with  nearly  all 
on  board.  A  touching  incident  connected  with  her 
leaving  home  is  narrated  as  follows,  in  the  "New 
York  Daily  Tribune  "  of  September  11  of  that  year : 

"  I  happened  to  be  in  the  office  of  the  American  steam 
packets  when  Miss  Dix  called  to  pay  her  passage.  The 
clerk  handed  her  a  receipt,  but  declined  the  money,  saying 
that  Mr.  E.  K.  Collins  (the  chief  owner  of  the  line)  had 
directed  him  to  request  her  acceptance  of  the  passage. 
With  much  emotion.  Miss  Dix  acknowledged  her  obligation 
to  Mr.  Collins,  adding  that  the  sum  thus  returned  to  her 
would  enable  her  to  carry  out  a  plan  she  had  much  at  heart. 

"  On  board  the  ship,  Miss  Dix  learned  that  she  had  yet 
more  for  which  to  thank  Mr.  Collins.  He  had  ordered 


IN  ENGLAND  AGAIN.  203 

that  no  one  else  should  be  put  in  her  stateroom,  thus  pre- 
senting her  with  two  passages.  He  was  on  board  when 
she  arrived.  She  approached  to  tender  her  thanks,  but, 
taking  her  hands  in  his  with  an  emotion  that  did  him 
honor,  he  said,  'The  nation,  madam,  owes  you  a  debt  of 
gratitude  which  it  can  never  repay,  and  of  which  I,  as  an 
individual,  am  only  too  happy  to  be  thus  privileged  to  mark 
my  sense.' 

"  Miss  Dix  could  only  reply  with  tears,  for,  as  was  evi- 
dent to  all  who  saw  her,  her  nervous  system  is  completely 
prostrated.  Could  we  expect  it  to  be  otherwise,  in  view  of 
her  immense  labors  and  her  grievous  disappointments !  " 

In  connection  with  this  appreciative  act  of  Mr. 
E.  K.  Collins,  it  may  be  well  here  to  record  that  for 
many  years  now  it  had  been  the  habit  of  railway  com- 
panies all  over  the  Union  to  send  Miss  Dix  yearly 
passes,  and  of  express  companies  to  forward,  free  of 
charge,  all  the  multifarious  matter  she  was  unceas- 
ingly collecting  for  prisons,  hospitals,  and  insane 
asylums. 

There  remains,  of  the  correspondence  with  her  friend 
Miss  Heath,  a  letter  of  Miss  Dix,  written  on  board 
the  "Arctic,"  which  throws  light  on  the  ruling  passion 
of  her  life,  while  at  the  same  time  furnishing  an 
amusing  comment  on  the  old  Latin  adage,  "  Coelum, 
non  animum,  mutant,  qui  trans  mare  currunt."  A 
favorite  poem  of  hers  —  one,  indeed,  that  she  copied 
hundreds  of  times,  and  sent  to  friends  all  over  the 
United  States  —  had  always  been  the  little  gem  be- 
ginning, 

"  Rest  is  not  quitting  the  busy  career." 

That  it  had  again  been  floating  through  her  mind 
during  the  voyage  across  the  Atlantic,  seems  evident 
enough  from  the  tenor  of  her  letter. 


204  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"STEAMSHIP  ARCTIC,  September  11,  1854. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  Thus  far,  by  the  good  providence  of 
God,  we  are  safely  on  our  voyage.  I  am  now  free  from  sea- 
sickness, and,  but  for  the  roughness,  I  could  easily  employ 
myself  pretty  constantly.  I  pass  the  time  with  such  a  measure 
of  listlessness  as  affords  but  few  results  that  will  tell  for 
others'  good.  However,  I  give  you  an  example  of  my  suc- 
cess. I  had  observed  on  Sunday  several  parties  betting  on 
the  steamer's  run.  I  waited  till  the  bets  were  decided,  and 
then  asked  the  winner  for  the  winnings,  which  I  put  into 
the  captain's  care  for  '  The  Home  for  the  Children  of 
Indigent  Sailors '  in  New  York.  To-night  I  am  going  to 
ask  each  passenger  for  a  donation  for  the  same  object, 
as  our  thank  offering  for  preservation  thus  far  on  our 
voyage.  I  shall,  I  think,  get  above  $150,  or  perhaps  but 
$100. 

"I  still  regard  my  plans  as  doubtful.  I  have  not  the 
slightest  interest  in  going  into  France,  or  even  Italy.  In 
contrast  with  the  aim  of  my  accustomed  pursuits,  it  seems 
the  most  trivial  use  of  time.  I  should  like  to  have  some 
person  take  my  place  who  would  fancy  it,  if  I  could  receive 
in  exchange  a  good  amount  of  working  strength." 

The  incident  of  Miss  Dix's  thus  quietly  diverting 
from  the  pocket  of  the  winner  the  sum  total  of  the 
bets  on  the  steamer's  run,  and  transferring  it  into  the 
till  of  the  Home  for  the  Children  of  Indigent  Sailors, 
affords  opportunity  for  a  brief  allusion  to  a  charge 
often  brought  against  her,  namely,  that  she  followed 
too  literally  the  Apostle's  injunction  to  be  "  instant  in 
season  and  out  of  season."  From  the  variability  of 
human  standards  of  judgment,  it  will  inevitably  follow 
that  here  is  a  text  which  will  always  be  differently 
interpreted,  whether  by  divines  or  laymen.  "  It  is 
entirely  out  of  season,"  the  winner  of  a  dozen  bets  will 
no  doubt  say,  —  "it  is  entirely  out  of  season  to  come 


IN  ENGLAND  AGAIN.  205 

to  me  just  when  I  have  pocketed  enough  to  buy  a 
whole  box  of  cigars,  and  disagreeably  remind  me  of 
the  wants  of  the  children  of  indigent  sailors,  who  are 
not  my  lookout.  I  bet  to  win  and  smoke,  not  to  re- 
lieve human  suffering !  "  No  doubt  his  friends  would 
to  a  man  be  of  a  like  opinion.  Meanwhile,  the  result 
of  an  appeal  to  a  higher  tribunal,  which  should  im- 
partially weigh  in  the  scale  the  claim  to  peace  and 
comfort  of  the  successful  better  against  the  sore  needs 
of  the  children  of  shipwrecked  sailors,  might  be  a 
reversal  of  the  verdict. 

For  a  month  or  six  weeks  after  her  arrival  in 
Liverpool,  Miss  Dix  seems  really  to  have  sought  rest 
and  change  through  seeing  old  friends  and  by  various 
excursions  into  interesting  parts  of  the  country.  Still, 
within  a  very  few  days  of  her  setting  foot  on  English 
soil  there  were  ominous  signs  of  what  would  before 
long  inevitably  follow.  Thus  to  her  friend,  Miss 
Heath,  she  writes  as  early  as  September  22 :  — 

11 1  am  still  here  with  dear  friends,  much  occupied  with 
charitable  institutions  and  the  meetings  of  the  British  Scien- 
tific Association.  All  this  tires  me  sadly,  but  I  shall  take 
things  easier  in  a  week.  It  is  my  purpose  to  go  to  Scot- 
land to  see  the  hospitals  in  ten  days." 

Perhaps,  to  the  average  reader,  the  strict  logical 
connection  between  "  taking  things  easier  in  a  week  " 
and  "  going  to  Scotland  to  see  the  hospitals  in  ten 
days  "  may  not  seem  so  obvious  as  apparently  it  did 
to  the  writer.  In  reality  the  Scotch  visit  was  to  in- 
volve Miss  Dix  in  one  of  the  most  arduous  undertak- 
ings of  her  life.  For  a  few  weeks,  however,  it  was 
deferred,  and  the  intervening  time  spent  in  a  run 
through  Ireland,  one  delightful  incident  of  which 


206  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

is  described  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  in  Liver- 
pool :  — 

"  BALLINASLOE,  IRELAND,  October  25,  1854. 
"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  could  not  sleep  to-night  before 
writing  a  line  to  tell  you  how  much  I  have  wished  you  with  me 
the  last  fortnight,  but  especially  for  the  past  nine  hours,  from 
seven  last  night  to  four  this  morning.  I  reached  Parsontown 
yesterday  at  two  P.  M.  Sent  a  note  of  introduction  to  the 
Castle,  to  Lord  Rosse,  asking  permission  to  see  his  telescope. 
In  half  an  hour  received  an  invitation  to  dinner  at  seven  P.  M.  ; 
and  almost  immediately  his  assistant,  Mr.  Mitchell,  arrived 
at  the  Parsontown  Arms,  to  say  that  Lord  Rosse  had  sent 
him  to  conduct  me  to  the  Castle,  in  order  that  the  instru- 
ments might  be  seen  by  day,  and  the  machinery.  I  reserve 
all  details  till  we  meet,  simply  saying  that  I  was  swinging 
in  mid-air,  sixty  feet  from  the  ground,  at  two  in  the  morning, 
yesterday,  —  Lord  Rosse,  Captain  King,  Mr.  Mitchell,  and 
Mr.  Tirn,  —  on  a  massive  gallery,  by  turn  looking  through 
the  most  magnificent  telescope  in  the  world." 

To  this  Irish  visit,  and  to  the  pleasure  she  was 
equally  enjoying  in  the  scenery  and  society  of  Eng- 
land, Miss  Dix  refers  in  a  subsequent  letter  to  Miss 
Heath,  of  Boston,  Mass. :  — 

"LIVERPOOL,  November  16,  1854. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  I  am  lately  arrived  from  a  tour  over 
Ireland,  which  consumed  four  entire  weeks ;  a  period  which 
I  shall  always  recall  with  lively  interest.  .  .  .  Having  no 
great  desire  and  no  urgent  motive  to  cross  the  Channel  to 
the  Continent,  I  shall  not  do  so  except  the  climate  here 
prove  too  severe.  .  .  .  Few  traveling  parties  would  suit 
my  tastes  or  habits,  and  I  as  little  should  suit  theirs.  In 
fact,  the  institutions  of  England  do  interest  me,  both  liter- 
ary, scientific,  and  humane,  and  in  becoming  familiar  with 
them  I  shall  acquire  much  to  remember  with  pleasure  and 


IN  ENGLAND  AGAIN.  207 

advantage  during  the  year  I  propose  to  complete  this  side 
the  Atlantic. 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  distressing  than  the  news  from 
the  seat  of  war  [the  war  in  the  Crimea],  where  violence  and 
the  plague  seem  to  spend  their  force  on  both  armies.  The 
affliction  of  families  where  kindred  are  so  exposed  is  most 
painful,  and  leads  to  a  distress  involving  serious  conse- 
quences, and  increasing  demands  on  hospitals  for  the  insane. 
There  is  little  prospect  of  the  soon  coming  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  on  earth,  and  the  peace  which  is  of  Christ  and 
his  doctrines. 

"  Romanism  and  Church  of  Englandisrn  are  waging  as 
hot  a  spiritual  war  as  is  maintained  in  the  Crimea  by  physi- 
cal force,  and  the  heart  of  pity  is  petrified  under  the  assaults 
of  bigotry  and  dogmatism.  Social  intercourse  is  interrupted 
by  religious  animosities ;  but  where  these  disturbing  influ- 
ences do  not  penetrate,  society  is  full  of  life  and  interest. 
Conversation,  rather  than  talking,  engages  thought  and 
measures  time.  One  feels  that  something  is  gained  on  part- 
ing with  one's  friends,  which  remains  to  supply  new  aliment 
for  reflection  long  after  the  circle  which  supplied  it  is  dis- 
solved." 

Delightful,  however,  to  Miss  Dix  as  was  this  season 
of  change  from  the  protracted  labors  of  so  many 
years,  and  keenly  as  she  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of 
giving  a  free  breath  to  her  intellectual  nature  through 
contact  with  superior  men  and  women,  with  something 
worth  hearing  to  say,  it  was  a  season  of  change  des- 
tined to  be  of  short  duration.  Of  her,  emphatically 
held  true  those  words  of  Martineau :  "  High  hearts 
are  never  long  without  hearing  some  new  call,  some 
distant  clarion  of  God,  even  in  their  dreams  ;  and 
soon  they  are  observed  to  break  up  the  camp  of  ease, 
and  start  on  some  fresh  march  of  faithful  service." 
The  visit  to  Scotland  was  soon  to  bring  to  her  lips  the 


208  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X, 

old  familiar  cry,  "  While  such  suffering  remains  unre» 
dressed,  perish  in  me  every  thought  of  personal  ease 
or  social  delights !  "  And  yet,  before  proceeding  to 
narrate  the  great  results  which  came  of  that  visit  to 
Scotland,  once  again  it  becomes  necessary  —  as  on  a 
previous  occasion  —  to  turn  back,  and  treat  in  distinct 
episode  another  work  of  mercy  Miss  Dix  had  been 
engaged  in,  the  happy  outcome  of  which  now  first  saw 
the  light  of  day.  Within  a  couple  of  months  of  her 
landing  in  Liverpool,  there  came  letters  from  home 
which  brought  to  her  rejoicing  heart  the  news  of  a 
glorious  success,  the  preparations  for  which  she  had 
been  laying  in  the  past  two  years.  The  nature  and 
extent  of  this  success  will  be  unfolded  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SABLE   ISLAND. 

OF  a  letter  from  Hon.  Hugh  Bell  to  Miss  Dix, 
dated  Halifax,  August  4,  1853,  the  following  words 
may  be  recalled  by  the  reader:  "I  called  on  the 
Admiral  —  or  rather  at  the  Admiralty  House  —  to 
leave  my  card  for  the  Earl  of  Ellsmere  (as  in  duty 
bound).  The  old  Admiral  met  me  at  the  door  very 
cordially,  shook  hands,  and  then  said,  4  Where  is  Miss 
Dix  ? '  I  replied,  4  She  left  for  home  yesterday.  She 
has  been  to  Sable  Island  and  back ! '  He  exclaimed 
in  true  sailor  style,  *  She  's  a  gallant  woman ! ' : 

How  gallant  a  woman  the  sequel  to  this  visit  was  to 
prove  her  not  even  the  hearty  old  Admiral  dreamed. 

It  so  happened  that  while  Miss  Dix,  in  June,  1853, 
was  engaged  in  asylum  work  at  St.  John,  Newfound- 
land, there  occurred  a  fearful  storm,  attended  by  ap- 
palling shipwrecks  which  left  a  lasting  impression  on 
her  mind.  She  had  gone  through  some  perilous  ex- 
periences of  her  own  on  these  exposed  coasts,  but  from 
a  letter  to  her  friend,  Miss  Heath,  describing  the  fury 
of  the  elements  on  this  especial  night,  it  was  evident 
that  her  whole  nature  had  now  been  wrought  to  the 
pitch  of  a  fixed  resolution  to  devise  some  efficient 
practical  means  for  the  rescue  of  those  at  the  mercy 
of  such  terrible  gales.  Hence  her  visit  to  Sable 
Island,  so  fitly  named  "The  Graveyard  of  Ships." 
The  familiar  maxim,  "It  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows 


210  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX 

nobody  any  good,"  was  now  destined  to  receive  a  fresh 
commentary. 

Sable  Island,  jutting  far  out  into  the  western  At- 
lantic, lies  in  latitude  43°  56'  north,  longitude  60°  3' 
west,  some  thirty  miles  southward  from  the  easterly 
end  of  Nova  Scotia.  It  is  a  waste  of  desolate,  wind- 
swept sand  hills,  fringed  with  everlasting  surf,  har- 
borless  and  shelterless  on  every  side. 

"  The  whole  region  for  leagues  around  is  a  trap  and  a 
snare.  One  sunken  bar  stretches  sixteen  miles  away  to  the 
northeast,  another  twenty-eight  miles  to  the  northwest.  The 
embrace  of  these  long  arms  is  death,  for  between  them  lie 
alternate  deeps  and  shoals,  and  when  the  sea  is  angry  it 
thunders  and  reverberates  along  a  front  of  thirty  miles, 
extending  twenty-eight  miles  to  seaward.  No  lighthouse 
throws  its  warning  gleam  beyond  this  seething  death-line, 
for  stone  structures  will  not  stand  upon  these  ever  shifting 
sands,  arid  wooden  ones  of  sufficient  height  could  not  with- 
stand the  storms.  The  mariner  drifts  to  his  grave  through 
total  gloom.  The  whole  island  bristles  with  stark  timbers 
and  the  de'bris  of  wrecks.  Thus  like  the  monster  polypus 
of  ancient  story,  it  lieth  in  the  very  track  of  commerce, 
stretching  out  its  huge  tentacles  for  its  prey,  enveloped  in 
fogs  and  mists,  and  scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  gray 
surf  that  unceasingly  lashes  its  shores."  1 

Official  records  set  the  number  of  known  wrecks  on 
the  island,  occurring  between  1830  and  1848,  at  six- 
teen full-rigged  ships,  fourteen  brigs,  and  thirteen 
schooners.  Besides  these,  the  loss  of  large  numbers 
of  unknown  vessels,  engulfed  and  never  surviving  to 
tell  their  fatal  story  by  more  than  a  floating  spar, 
would  have  vastly  farther  swollen  the  tragic  list. 

The  first  authentic  mention  of  Sable  Island  dates 

1  "The  Secrets  of  Sable  Island,"  Harper's  New  Monthly  Magazine, 
December,  1866. 


SABLE  ISLAND.  211 

from  the  surviving  companions  of  the  ill-fated  Sir 
Humphrey  Gilbert,  the  gallant  and  devout  courtier  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  added  so  heroic  a  name  to  the 
proud  list  of  England's  worthies.  The  occasion  of  his 
search  for  the  island,  with  his  little  fleet  of  three  ves- 
sels, is  thus  described  in  "  Hakluyt's  Voyages  "  :  — 

"  Sabla  lyeth  to  the  sea-ward  of  Cape  Brittan,  about  45 
leagues,  whither  we  were  determined  to  go  upon  intelligence 
we  had  of  a  Portingall,  during  our  abode  in  St.  John's,  who 
was  himself  present  when  the  Portingals  about  30  years 
past  did  put  into  the  same  island  both  neat  and  swine  to 
breed,  which  were  since  exceedingly  multiplied.  The  dis- 
tance between  Cape  Race  and  Cape  Britton  is  100  leagues, 
in  which  navigation  we  spent  8  days,  having  the  wind  many 
times  indifferent  good,  but  could  never  attain  sight  of  any 
land  all  that  time,  seeing  we  were  hindered  by  the  current. 
At  last  we  fell  into  such  flats  and  dangers  that  hardly  any 
of  us  escaped,  where  nevertheless  we  lost  the  [ship]  Admiral 
with  all  the  men  and  provision,  not  knowing  certainly  the 
place. 

"  Contrary  to  the  mind  of  the  expert  Master  Coxe,  on 
Wednesday  the  27th  August  they  bore  up  towards  the  land, 
those  in  the  doomed  ship,  the  Admiral,  continually  sounding 
trumpets  and  drums,  whilst  strange  voices  from  the  deep 
scared  the  helmsman  from  his  post  on  board  the  frigate. 
Thursday  the  28th  the  wind  arose  and  blew  vehemently 
from  the  south  and  east,  bringing  withal  rain  and  thick  mist, 
that  we  could  not  see  a  cable  length  before  us,  and  betimes 
in  the  morning  we  were  altogether  run  and  folded  in  amongst 
flats  and  sands,  amongst  which  we  found  flats  and  deeps 
every  three  or  four  ship's  length.  Immediately  tokens 
were  given  to  the  Admiral  to  cast  about  to  seaward,  which, 
being  the  greater  ship  and  of  burden  120  tons,  was  per- 
forrnost  upon  the  beach,  keeping  so  ill  watch  that  they  knew 
not  the  danger  before  they  felt  the  same  too  late  to  recover 


212  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

it,  for  presently  the  Admiral  struck  a-ground,  and  had  soon 
after  her  stern  and  hinder  parts  beaten  in  pieces." 

Thus  beginning  the  record  it  has  ever  since  main- 
tained, such  was  the  disastrous  reception  given  by 
Sable  Island,  August  28,  1583,  to  Sir  Humphrey  Gil- 
bert, who  with  great  difficulty  escaped  with  his  two  re- 
maining vessels,  only  soon  after  himself  to  founder  in 
the  terrible  gale  off  the  Grand  Banks,  in  which, 
'•  standing  at  the  helm,  sorely  wounded  in  one  foot, 
and  Bible  in  hand,"  he  cheerily  shouted  to  his  com- 
panions on  the  sole  surviving  vessel,  "  We  are  as  near 
to  heaven  by  sea  as  by  land  !  " 

Later  on,  in  1598,  Sable  Island  was  made  a  penal 
colony  for  convicts  from  the  French  settlements  in 
Arcadia,  forty  of  them  having  been  landed  there  by 
the  Marquis  de  la  Roche,  and  left  to  their  fate.  It 
was  found  seven  years  later  that  only  twelve  had  sur- 
vived to  tell  the  story  of  their  sufferings.  Later,  as 
increasing  commerce  added  to  the  tale  of  wrecks,  the 
island  became  the  abode  of  desperate  men,  who  as 
piratical  wreckers  gave  it  such  a  name  that  it  was 
reputed  better  for  mariners  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the 
sea  than  to  escape  only  to  be  murdered  on  land.  Fi- 
nally, in  1802,  after  the  wreck  of  the  British  trans- 
port, Princess  Amelia,  "  having l  on  board  the  furni- 
ture of  Prince  Edward,  with  recruits,  officers,  and 
servants  to  the  number  of  two  hundred,  all  of  whom 
perished,  —  though  it  is  supposed  that  some  reached 
shore,  and  were  murdered  by  the  pirates,"  —  the  Pro- 
vincial Legislature  took  action.  A  relief  station  was 
established,  the  wreckers  were  driven  off  the  island, 
and  a  superintendent,  with  a  crew  of  four  men,  placed 

1  Sable  Island,  by  J.   Bernard  Gilpin,  B.  A.,  M.  D.,   M.  R.  C.  S. 
Halifax,  1858. 


SABLE  ISLAND.  2 13 

in  charge.  From  step  to  step,  these  humane  pro- 
visions were  increased,  until  in  1836  the  annual  fund 
was  raised  to  .£2,000,  stanch  buildings  were  erected, 
and  new  apparatus  added.  Such,  then,  is  the  ill- 
omened,  though  gradually  ameliorating,  history  of 
Sable  Island  in  the  past. 

It  is  certainly  a  striking  commentary  on  the  change 
that  has  come  over  the  world  on  the  subject  of  "  wo- 
man's sphere "  and  "  woman's  appropriate  work," 
since  the  days  when  lago  summed  them  up  in  such 
unflattering  terms,  that  now  an  overtaxed  and  suffer- 
ing representative  of  the  sex  should  see  it  in  the  light 
of  imperative  duty  to  make  a  voyage  to  this  so  dreaded 
island,  to  study  on  the.  spot  whether  something  more 
effective  could  not  be  devised  for  the  safety  of  those 
exposed  to  such  frightful  perils.  Why  her  imper- 
ative duty?  Were  there  not  the  home  government 
and  the  provincial  government;  were  there  not  ad- 
mirals and  captains  in  plenty ;  were  there  not  the  rich 
shipping  merchants  of  Halifax,  Liverpool,  New  York, 
and  Boston,  whose  argosies  lay  stranded  at  every 
point  of  those  storm-lashed  shores?  And  she  herself? 
Surely,  with  hospitals  to  look  after  in  twenty  States, 
12,225,000  Acre  Bills  to  engineer  through  Congress, 
and  two  new  asylums  actually  in  hand  in  Nova  Scotia 
and  Newfoundland,  might  she  not  guiltlessly  have 
washed  her  hands  of  Sable  Island?  No,  thither  must 
she  go,  to  study  the  problem  on  the  spot,  to  examine 
into  every  detail  of  the  life-saving  apparatus  used, 
and  to  leave  behind  her,  as  she  scoured  every  part 
of  the  island  on  one  of  the  ragged  little  wild  ponies 
that  breed  there,  "  the  character  of  an  intrepid  horse- 
man." 

Making  Sable  Island,  landing  there  for  a  stay  of 


214  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  D1X. 

several  days,  and  then  getting  away  again,  is  an  un- 
dertaking always  involving  a  certain  amount  of  risk. 
There  is  no  harbor,  and  even  on  the  north,  the  more 
sheltered  shore,'  vessels  have  to  lie  off  at  a  consider- 
able distance,  ready  at  the  first  sign  of  an  unfavorable 
change  of  wind  to  put  out  to  sea.  Fortunately  for 
the  purposes  Miss  Dix  had  in  view,  her  visit  occurred 
at  a  time  especially  good  for  her,  though  ill  omened 
for  others.  It  so  chanced  that  a  wreck  actually  oc- 
curred during  the  two  days  of  her  stay  on  the  island, 
—  that  of  a  fine  new  vessel,  the  "  Guide,"  with  a  cargo 
for  Labrador.  She  went  ashore  on  the  south  side  ; 
no  storm,  but  a  dense  fog  prevailing,  in  which  she  be- 
came bewildered  till  she  found  herself  within  the  fatal 
arms  of  the  sand  polypus. 

As  the  weather  remained  calm,  all  lives  were  saved 
by  the  surf  boats.  The  wreck,  however,  enabled  Miss 
Dix  to  secure  a  vivid  object  lesson  of  what  could  and 
what  could  not  be  done  by  the  force  of  men  and  char- 
acter of  apparatus  on  hand.  Oddly  enough,  more- 
over, an  incident  occurred  which  united  in  a  kind  of 
dramatic  unity  a  romantic  blending  of  her  old  mission 
in  behalf  of  the  insane  with  her  new  in  behalf  of  the 
sailor.  It  is  thus  described  in  a  letter  from  Mr.  E. 
Merriam,  of  New  York,  who  later  on  rendered  invalu- 
able service  to  her  scheme  for  equipping  the  island 
with  proper  lifeboats  and  appliances. 

"  The  ship,  was  abandoned  by  all  but  the  captain.  He 
had  become  a  raving  maniac,  and  would  not  leave.  Miss 
Dix  rode  to  the  beach  on  horseback,  as  the  last  boat  landed 
from  the  iK-fated  ship,  and  learned  the  sad  fate  of  the  com- 
mander, who,  the  sailors  said,  was  a  kind-hearted  man. 
She  plead  with  them  to  return  to  the  wreck  and  bring  him 
on  shore,  and  to  bind  him  if  it  was  necessary  for  his  safety. 


SABLE  ISLAND.  215 

They  obeyed  her  summons,  and  soon  were  again  on  the 
beach,  with  their  captain  bound  hand  and  foot.  She  loos- 
ened the  cords,  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  a  boat- 
house  built  for  the  shipwrecked,  and  there  by  kind  words 
calmed  his  mind  and  persuaded  him  to  thank  the  sailors  for 
saving  his  life ;  she  trusted  that  rest  and  nourishing  food 
would  restore  him  to  his  reason." 

Scarcely  back  in  the  United  States,  Miss  Dix  set  to 
work  with  her  usual  energy.  She  had  found  the  boats 
and  the  life-saving  apparatus  at  Sable  Island  far  be- 
hind the  requirements  of  the  day.  There  was  no  mor- 
tar for  throwing  a  line  across  a  wrecked  vessel,  no 
provision  of  cars  and  breeches-buoys.  Above  all,  the 
boats  were  clumsy  and  unsafe,  utterly  incapable  of  the 
perilous  services  demanded  of  them.  Applying  at 
once  to  her  friends  among  the  merchants  of  Boston, 
New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  she  was  quickly  pro- 
vided with  funds  for  building  boats  of  the  most  ap- 
proved modern  construction  and  ordering  a  full  equip- 
ment of  the  newest  inventions  in  apparatus. 

August  20,  1853,  on  reaching  Boston,  Miss  Dix  at 
once  sought  communication  with  such  experts  in  nau- 
tical matters  as  Captain  Robert  B.  Forbes,  —  then 
chairman  of  the  Humane  Society  of  Boston,  —  who 
quickly  responded  to  her  appeal.  Captain  Forbes  was 
a  notable  instance  of  that  noble  breed  of  American 
sailors  and  merchants,  who  at  one  period  carried  the 
fame  of  their  country  for  courage,  enterprise,  and  sa- 
gacity all  round  the  globe.  Full  of  public  spirit,  he 
had  on  a  previous  occasion  taken  command  of  the 
"  Jamestown  "  when  she  was  sent  out  laden  with  corn 
for  the  relief  of  famine-stricken  Ireland,  as  equally  he 
had  founded  the  Sailors'  Snug  Harbor  for  disabled 
seamen  in  Quincy,  Mass.  Nothing  bearing  on  the 


216  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

questions  either  of  building  stanch  ships,  or  caring 
for  the  welfare  of  their  crews,  or  lighting  exposed 
points  for  their  guidance,  or  saving  their  lives  when 
the  hour  of  disaster  struck,  failed  to  appeal  to  his  in- 
telligence and  humanity. 

The  letter  Miss  Dix  addressed  to  Captain  Forbes, 
immediately  after  arriving  in  Boston,  bears  the  mark 
of  a  certain  breathless  haste,  as  though  no  time  were 
to  be  lost :  — 

"  BOSTON,  August  20, 1853. 

"  Miss  Dix's  compliments  to  Mr.  Forbes,  and  wishes  to 
consult  him  on  several  questions  relative  to  marine  interests, 
wherein  his  superior  judgment  and  assistance  can  assist  her 
own  aims.  Will  Mr.  Forbes  oblige  Miss  Dix  by  calling  at 
the  residence  of  Charles  Hayward,  Esq.,  No.  9  Franklin 
Place,  at  the  earliest  hour  his  convenience  will  allow,  on 
Wednesday  morning,  August  21st  ?  " 

It  is  not  surprising,  accordingly,  to  find  in  Captain 
Forbes's  journal,  as  early  as  September  16,  an  entry 
to  the  effect :  — 

"Trying  experiments  with  life-preservers  and  boat.  I 
went  into  the  river  with  a  neighbor  to  show  Miss  Dix  how 
to  capsize  and  how  to  right  a  boat.  We  invited  her  to  throw 
herself  over,  and  permit  us  to  save  her,  but,  as  she  had  no 
change  of  clothes,  she  declined." 

By  the  middle  of  November  matters  had  gone  at 
such  a  pace  that,  after  personally  superintending  the 
building  of  the  "  Victoria  "  in  Boston,  Captain  Forbes 
was  able  to  write  as  follows  of  this  boat  and  of  the 
others  that  had  been  constructed  in  New  York :  — 

"Miss  D.  L.  Dix, — 

"  My  dear  Lady :  —  Your  several  notes  are  received. 
The  last  bears  date,  Buffalo,  12th  hist.,  and,  as  far  as  I  can 


SABLE  ISLAND.  217 

make  out  (you  do  write  a  hard  hand  for  a  business  woman  *), 
asks  for  an  answer  to  New  Jersey  and  Trenton.     Here  it  is. 

"  The  boat  is  in  Boston,  and  being  fitted  with  her  floats, 
some  of  which  being  smaller  than  ordered.  I  am  putting  in 
copper  air-tight  cases.  All  will,  I  trust,  be  ready  for  ship- 
ment in  four  or  five  days. 

"  Do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  say  anything  about  obligation  to 
me.  It  is  me,  and  the  rest  of  us  merchants,  whom  you  have 
laid  under  obligations.  I  made  a  long  journey  to  Williams- 
burg,  where  your  New  York  boats  are  lying  in  the  shop  of 
Francis.  They  are  good  boats,  though  rather  heavy,  and  I 
predict  that  the  i  Victoria '  will  be  the  queen  of  the  fleet." 
"  I  am  very  truly  yours, 

"  R.  B.  FORBES." 

By  the  25th  of  November  the  boats  and  outfits 
were  completed,  the  three  boats  built  in  New  York  be- 
ing publicly  exhibited  on  Wall  Street,  and  attracting 
great  attention  by  their  beauty  and  strength.  It  was 
Miss  Dix's  desire  to  forward  the  entire  little  fleet  by 
a  sailing  vessel  to  Halifax,  thence,  as  opportunity  of- 
fered, to  be  transferred  to  Sable  Island.  To  this  plan 
Captain  Forbes  strongly  objected  as  "  putting  too 
many  eggs  in  one  basket,"  and  insisting  on  sending  the 
Boston  boat,  the  "  Victoria,"  to  Halifax  by  a  Cunard 
steamer.  She  was  accordingly  thus  forwarded,  accom- 
panied by  the  following  letter  from  Miss  Dix :  — 

1  Miss  Dix's  handwriting1  was  at  once  the  amusement  and  the 
despair  of  her  correspondents,  who  were  often  driven  to  their  wit's 
ends  in  vain  attempts  to  decipher  it.  The  trouble  began  back  in  her 
school-keeping  days,  when  overstrain  added  writer's  cramp  to  her 
numerous  disabilities.  Things  grew  worse  in  this  respect  when  so 
vast  a  correspondence  was  thrust  upon  her  by  her  asylum  work.  In- 
deed, her  biography  could  hardly  have  been  written  without  an 
amount  of  serious  preliminary  study  of  her  manuscripts,  fairly  equal 
to  that  of  Champollion  in  his  preparation  for  deciphering  the  hiero- 
glyphics of  Egypt. 


218  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DLX. 

"  NEW  YORK,  November  28,  1853. 

"  To  His  EXCELLENCY,  SIR  JOHN  GASPARD  LE  MARCHANT, 
Lieut.  Governor  of  Nova  Scotia,  etc.,  K.  C.  B.,  eic. 

"I  have  the  honor  and  pleasure  cf  consigning  by  this 
writing  to  your  excellency  a  lifeboat,  'The  Victoria  of 
Boston,'  for  the  use  of  Sable  Island,  and  which  with  its 
appendages  is  a  gift  to  me  for  this  sole  purpose  from  Hon. 
Abbot  Lawrence,  Hon.  Jonathan  Philipps,  Col.  T.  H.  Per- 
kins, Hon.  William  Appleton,  R.  C.  Harper,  R.  B.  Forbes, 
and  G.  N.  Upton,  Esq.,  all  of  Boston. 

"  To  Mr.  Forbes,  who  for  courage  and  knowledge  in 
nautical  affairs  has  a  wide  reputation,  I  am  especially 
obliged,  since  his  judgment  and  experience  have  assisted  me 
in  effecting  the  completion  of  my  wishes  in  this  business  in 
a  satisfactory  manner.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  your  Excellency's  sincere  friend, 
with  sentiments  of  respect  and  esteem, 

"D.  L.  Dix. 

"  P.  S.  The  Boston  boat  will  very  soon  be  followed  by 
the  New  York  and  Philadelphia  boats,  with  the  outfits." 

The  brig  "Eleanora,"  destined  to  carry  the  New 
York  boats,  sailed  November  27th.  On  her  were 
shipped  by  Miss  Dix  two  surf  boats,  one  lifeboat,  two 
boat  wagons,  one  life  car,  the  mortar,  with  fit  ammuni- 
tion, coils  of  manilla  rope,  etc.  The  following  letter 
accompanied  them,  a  letter  that  shows  the  varied  na- 
ture of  the  interests  in  behalf  of  Sable  Island,  with 
which  Miss  Dix's  mind  was  filled :  — 

"  NEW  YORK,  November  29,  1889. 

"  His  EXCELLENCY  SIR  GEORGE  SEYMOUR,  K.  C.  B.,  etc. 
"  When  I  was  in  Nova  Scotia  last  summer,  an  opportu- 
nity occurred  of  visiting  Sable  Island.  I  found  it  deficient 
in  libraries,  opening  a  source  of  amusement  and  instruction 
to  isolated  mariners,  stationed  there,  and  that  there  was 
neither  a  lighthouse  for  warning,  nor  lifeboats  for  rescue  in 


SABLE  ISLAND.  219 

the  event  of  perilous  shipwrecks.  The  first  and  last  de- 
ficiencies I  was  confident  I  could  by  myself  and  my  friends 
at  home  supply,  but  the  second  —  the  lighthouse  —  I  could 
only  hope  to  see  established  through  your  Excellency's  in- 
fluence, met  and  sustained  by  the  gubernatorial  authority  of 
Sir  Gaspard  le  Marchant.  .  .  .  The  opinions  of  civilians 
differ,  but  as  they  suffer  none  of  the  exposures  and  en- 
counter none  of  the  dangers  of  maritime  life,  I  presume 
they  will  concede  the  decision  to  those  who  unite  prudence 
with  courage,  and  who,  while  they  unshrinkingly  meet 
perils,  do  not  despise  aids  for  avoiding  destruction.  I  shall 
regard  elaborate  argument  unseasonable  in  presenting  this 
subject  to  your  excellency  for  cordial  support ;  and,  in  the 
confidence  which  your  reputation  for  humanity  and  energy 
inspire,  leave  this  work  in  your  hands  for  early  accomplish- 
ment. 

"  I  may  inform  you  that  a  library  of  several  hundred 
volumes,  the  joint  gift  of  some  of  my  friends  and  several 
liberal  booksellers  in  Boston,  has  already  been  forwarded 
to  Halifax,  to  constitute  a  Mariner's  Library  for  Sable 
Island.  ' 

"In  view  of  supplying  lifeboats  to  meet  a  necessity,  in 
a  spirit  of  '  neighborly  good  will  and  fraternal  kindness,'  I 
asked  of  a  few  of  my  mercantile  friends  in  the  cities  of 
Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  a  sufficient  subscrip- 
tion for  four  first-class  lifeboats,  a  life  car,  with  mortar, 
cables,  trucks,  harnesses,  etc.  ...  I  have  named  the  Phila- 
delphia boat,  *  The  Grace  Darling,'  the  New  York  boats, 
severally,  '  The  Reliance,'  and  '  The  Samaritan,'  the  car, 
'The  Rescue,'  and  the  Boston  boat,  'The  Victoria  of  Bos- 
ton.' ...  I  shall  be  gratified  if  you  will  do  me  the  honor 
of  inspecting  them.  I  already  have  seen  them  conquer  the 
breakers  in  a  stormy  sea.  .  .  . 

"  I  have,  your  excellency,  the  honor  to  be  with  sincere 
respect  and  high  appreciation,  your  excellency's  friend, 

"D.  L.  Dix." 


220  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.   DIX. 

Alas !  the  warning  of  Captain  R.  B.  Forbes,  in  re- 
gard to  "  too  many  eggs  in  one  basket,"  was  destined 
to  prove  prophetic.  For  a  long  time  nothing  was 
heard  of  the  brig  "  Eleanora,"  till  at  last  came  a  letter 
to  Miss  Dix  from  her  stanch  friend  in  hospital  work, 
Hon.  Hugh  Bell,  which  brought  sad  tidings. 

"  HALIFAX,  January  16,  1854. 

"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  Perhaps  before  this  reaches  you,  the 
newspapers  or  the  shippers  will  have  informed  you  of  the 
fate  of  the  lifeboats.  The  brig  '  Eleanora,'  on  board  which 
they  were  shipped,  was  driven  ashore,  in  the  tempestuous 
weather  we  have  lately  had,  at  a  place  called  Cranberry 
Head,  about  nine  miles  from  Yarmouth,  and  is  a  total 
wreck.  1  telegraphed  to  Yarmouth  to  ascertain  respecting 
the  boats.  The  reply  is,  '  One  totally  lost  (went  to  sea), 
one  badly  broken,  other,  in  hold,  uncertain,  —  buoys,  etc., 
I  believe,  saved.'  Thus  your  benevolent  intentions,  and 
those  of  your  generous  friends,  are  for  the  present  frus- 
trated." 

The  disappointment  was  a  sad  one  to  Miss  Dix, 
who  constitutionally  liked  to  see  everything  doing  its 
own  appointed  work,  and  did  not  at  all  enjoy  the 
reversed  situation  of  a  life-saving  outfit  that  needed  to 
be  saved  itself.  However,  she  at  once  gave  directions 
to  have  the  two  broken  boats,  as  well  as  the  one  that 
had  gone  to  sea  and  was  later  picked  up,  together 
with  all  the  accoutrements,  sent  back  to  New  York 
for  thorough  repair ;  at  the  same  time  issuing  orders 
that  "The  Victoria"  should  remain  in  Halifax  till 
the  whole  little  fleet  should  be  ready.  Long  delays  in 
receiving  and  reshipping  ensued,  so  that  it  was  not 
until  the  ensuing  October  that,  in  two  detachments, 
the  entire  outfit  was  landed  on  Sable  Island. 

Now,  in  a  romantic   drama  to   be  entitled  "  The 


SAULE  ISLAND.  221 

Grace  Darling,"  and  sensationally  worked  up  to  thrill 
the  spectators,  and  emphasize  the  sure  reward  of  vir- 
tue, the  writer  wotdd  no  doubt  extemporize  a  ship- 
wreck to  glorify,  within  twenty-four  hours  of  its  ad- 
vent, so  humanely-sent  a  means  of  rescue,  and  to  give 
it  a  chance  to  make  immediate  display  of  its  heroic 
quality.  Not  always,  however,  is  poetic  justice  con- 
fined to  the  stage.  Strange  to  relate,  in  the  night 
of  October  27  —  within  a  few  days  only  after  the 
arrival  of  the  first  three  boats,  and  a  day  only  after 
that  of  "  The  Eeliance,"  which  proved  the  real  hero 
of  the  scene  —  a  shipwreck,  anH  a  frightful  one,  did 
occur.  It  was  that  of  the  ship  "  Arcadia,"  Captain 
William  Jordan,  from  Antwerp,  for  New  York,  with 
one  hundred  and  forty-seven  passengers  on  board,  and 
a  crew  of  twenty-one  men. 

The  first  tidings  of  the  behavior  of  the  little  fleet 
were  sent  Miss  Dix  —  then,  as  has  already  been  seen, 
in  England  — by  Hon.  Hugh  Bell,  of  Halifax,  N.  S. 

"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  The  very  day  after  the  arrival  of  the 
largest  lifeboat  (the  '  Reliance  ')  at  Sable  Island,  the  oth- 
ers having  been,  together  with  the  attached  cars  and  wag- 
ons, previously  forwarded,  a  large  American  ship  from  Ant- 
werp, with  upwards  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  passengers, 
men,  women,  and  children,  was  cast  upon  one  of  the  sand- 
banks off  the  northeast  end  of  the  island,  and  lurched  so 
that  the  sea  beat  into  her  and  rendered  all  chance  of  escape 
by  the  efforts  of  the  people  on  board  quite  hopeless.  The 
sea  was  so  heavy,  and  the  weather  so  boisterous,  that  none 
of  the  island's  boats  could  live  in  it.  To  reach  the  wreck 
from  the  station  was  over  twenty  miles  ;  your  wagons  thus 
came  into  use.  Your  l  Reliance '  rode  over  the  waves,  as 
the  sailors  said,  like  a  duck,  and  with  her  and  two  of  your 
smaller  boats,  the  *  Samaritan  '  and  the  '  Rescue,'  the  whole 
of  the  passengers  were  safely  landed  ;  poor  things,  almost 


222  LIFE   OF   DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

in  a  state  of  nudity,  not  being  able  to  save  anything  from 
the  ship.  Will  you  not  rejoice  at  this  result  of  your  bounty  ? 
Including  the  crew,  one  hundred  and  eighty  human  beings 
were  saved  by  the  means  thus  opportunely,  and  may  I  not 
add  providentially,  furnished  through  your  care. 

"  I  am  very  truly  your  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

"HUGH  BELL." 

This  letter  from  Hon.  Hugh  Bell  was,  a  few  weeks 
later,  followed  by  a  letter  to  himself  from  Capt.  M. 
D.  McKeima,  Superintendent  of  the  Relief  Station  at 
Sable  Island,  which  ^ives  farther  particulars. 

"SABLE  ISLAND,  December  6,  1854. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  The  '  Arcadia  '  struck  on  the  S.  E.  side 
of  the  N.  E.  bar  of  this  island  at  6  P.  M.,  on  the  26th  kist., 
in  a  dense  fog,  and  the  wind  blowing  strong  from  S.  S.  W. 
As  soon  as  we  got  the  report  on  the  following  morning,  we 
started  at  once  for  the  wreck  with  the  largest  lifeboat,  and 
found  the  ship  lying  about  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
beach,  head  to  the  southward,  settled  deep  in  the  sand,  and 
listed  seaward  with  her  lee  side  under  water,  main  and 
mizzen  masts  gone  by  the  deck,  and  a  tremendous  sea  run- 
ning and  sweeping  over  her  bows.  .  .  . 

"  We  immediately  launched  the  Francis  lifeboat  '  Reli- 
ance,' when  the  boat's  crew  took  their  stations,  and  with 
the  mate  started  for  the  wreck,  and  after  contending  for 
some  considerable  time  with  tremendous  seas,  strong  cur- 
rents, and  high  winds,  they  got  alongside  the  wreck,  and 
during  the  afternoon  made  six  trips  to  the  wreck,  and 
brought  on  shore  about  eighty  persons,  large  and  small.  Two 
other  attempts  were  made  to  reach  the  wreck,  but  the  oars 
and  thole  pins  were  broken  by  the  violence  of  the  sea,  and 
the  boat  had  to  return  to  the  beach.  An  attempt  was  made 
to  send  a  warp  from  the  ship  to  the  shore,  but  the  current 
ran  at  such  a  rate  that  it  could  not  be  accomplished.  When 
night  came  on,  and  we  had  to  haul  up  our  boat,  the  cries 


SABLE  ISLAND.  223 

from  those  left  on  the  wreck  were  truly  heart-rending.  In  the 
hurry  of  work,  families  had  been  separated,  and  when  those 
on  shore  heard  the  cries  of  those  on  the  wreck  at  seeing  the 
boats  hauled  up,  a  scene  was  witnessed  that  may  be  imag- 
ined, but  cannot  be  described.  I  walked  slowly  from  the 
place,  leading  my  horse,  till  by  the  roaring  of  the  sea,  the 
whistling  of  the  winds,  and  the  distance  I  had  traveled, 
their  doleful  cries  could  not  be  heard.  .  .  . 

"  Next  morning,  we  launched  the  lifeboat  as  soon  as  it 
was  clear  enough  to  see  how  to  work  her,  and  by  10  A.  M. 
we  had  both  crew  and  passengers  safely  landed.  .  .  .  The 
ship  was  broken  in  a  thousand  pieces  on  the  night  of  the 
29th,  and  only  a  few  packages  of  cargo  and  some  small 
things  of  ship's  materials  are  saved.  Captain  Jordan  was 
knocked  down  by  a  sea  and  very  severely  cut  and  bruised, 
while  our  boat  was  making  her  second  trip,  which  deprived 
us  of  his  advice  and  assistance.  The  mate,  Mr.  Collamore, 
acted  nobly  throughout  the  whole  business.  .  .  .  The  Island 
men  exerted  themselves  to  the  utmost,  and  the  boat's  crew 
nobly  stuck  to  their  boat,  and  declined  accepting  the  offer  of 
the  mate  to  give  them  a  spell  with  some  of  the  ship's  crew. 
The  Francis  metallic  lifeboat  '  Reliance  '  has  done  what  no 
other  boat  could  do,  that  I  have  ever  seen.  It  was  a  fear- 
ful time,  yet  the  boats'  crews  each  took  their  stations  read- 
ily, and  soon  showed  that  they  felt  the  '  Reliance '  to  be 
worthy  of  her  name. 

"  I  am  sure  that  our  benevolent  friend,  Miss  Dix,  will  feel 
herself  more  than  compensated  for  her  great  exertions  in  be- 
half of  Sable  Island  Establishment,  when  she  becomes  ac- 
quainted with  what  we  have  already  done  through  the 
means  she  furnished,  and  we,  with  many  others,  have  rea- 
son to  thank  God  that  her  good  works  have  been  felt  on 
Sable  Island.  For  my  own  part,  I  shall  think  of  her  with 
feelings  of  gratitude  while  memory  lasts. 

"  Your  obedient  servant,  M.  D.  McKENNA. 

"  To  THE  HONORABLE  HUGH  BELL, 

Chairman,  Board  of  Works,  Halifax." 


224  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Congratulatory  letters  from  home  friends,  and 
friends  in  England,  now  came  thick  and  fast  to  Miss 
Dix,  among  which  one  has  been  preserved,  which 
gives  so  sprightly  and  amusing  a  picture  of  interna- 
tional rivalry  in  acts  of  mercy,  as  to  make  it  quite  as 
worthy  of  record  as  the  majority  of  the  public  reports 
of  international  rivalries  in  yacht  racing  or  even  in 
pugilistic  prowess.  The  letter  was  written  by  Miss 
Anna  Gurney  of  the  well  known  Quaker  family,  illus- 
trated in  the  annals  of  philanthropy  by  such  names  as 
those  of  Elizabeth  Fry,  John  Joseph  Gurney,  and  Sir 
Fowell  Buxton.  To  bring  out  its  point,  a  few  words 
in  relation  to  Miss  Gurney  are  necessary. 

Miss  Anna  Gurney  —  says  the  "Gentleman's  Mag- 
azine "  in  an  obituary  of  her  written  several  years 
later  —  was  a  life-long  invalid. 

'*  At  ten  months  old,  she  was  attacked  with  a  paralytic 
affection,  which  deprived  her  forever  of  the  use  of  her  lower 
limbs.  She  passed  through  her  busy,  active,  and  happy  life, 
without  ever  having  been  able  to  stand  or  move.  As  her 
appetite  for  knowledge  displayed  itself  at  an  early  age,  her 
parents  procured  for  her  the  instruction  of  a  tutor  whose 
only  complaint  was  that  he  could  not  keep  pace  with  her 
eager  desire  and  rapid  acquisitions.  She  thus  learned  suc- 
cessively Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  ;  after  which  she  be- 
took herself  to  the  Teutonic  languages,  her  proficiency  in 
which  was  soon  marked  by  translation  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Chronicle,  printed  in  1819. 

"  After  the  one  irreparable  loss  to  her  of  the  sister  of  Sir 
Fowell  Buxton,  in  1839,  she  continued  to  inhabit  her  beau- 
tiful cottage  of  Northrepps,  near  Comer,  finding  consolation 
and  happiness  in  a  ceaseless  round  of  beneficence.  She 
had  procured,  at  her  own  expense,  one  of  Captain  Manby's 
apparatus  for  saving  the  lives  of  seamen  on  that  most  dan- 
gerous coast ;  and  in  case  of  great  emergency  and  peril,  she 


SABLE  ISLAND.  225 

caused  herself  to  be  carried  down  to  the  beach,  and,  from 
the  chair  in  which  she  wheeled  herself,  directed  all  meas- 
ures for  rescue.  We  cannot  conceive  a  more  touching  and 
elevating  picture  than  that  of  the  infirm  woman,  dependent 
even  for  the  least  movement  on  artificial  help,  coining  from 
the  luxurious  comfort  of  her  lovely  cottage  to  face  the  fury 
of  the  storm,  that  she  might  hope  to  save  some  from  per- 
ishing." 

Surely,  then,  if  ever  a  brave-hearted  woman  was  en- 
titled to  her  fair  share  of  men,  women,  and  children 
snatched  from  the  maw  of  the  devouring  sea,  Miss 
Anna  Gurney  was  that  woman  !  And  now  there  had 
suddenly  loomed  np  a  rival  American  sister,  who  had 
secured  one  hundred  and  eighty  at  a  single  haul  of  the 
net.  The  virulence  of  Miss  Gurney's  envious  feelings 
will  be  readily  perceived  from  the  following  letter  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  Dix,  —  I  congratulate  you  intensely  ! 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  success,  and  to  have  it  exactly  the 
day  after  your  boats  arrived !  I  can  only  tell  you,  I  have 
been  on  the  look-out  these  thirty  years,  and  tolerably  sharp, 
too,  I  hope,  and  never  got  so  much  as  a  pussy-cat  to  my  own 
share  of  a  wreck,  though  I  have  had  plenty  to  do  with  crews 
and  dogs  and  cats,  too.  But  I  never  had  really  the  joy  of 
being  the  instrument  of  deliverance,  as  you  may  truly  feel 
yourself.  .  .  .  Once,  indeed,  my  servant  threw  a  rocket-line 
over  a  stranded  vessel,  and  my  gang  of  fishermen  were  very 
indignant  that  the  men  would  not  give  me  the  honor  and 
glory  of  letting  themselves  be  dragged  through  the  breakers 
upon  the  sand,  but  would  wait  to  come  ashore  comfortably, 
in  a  lifeboat,  which  just  then  came  in  sight.  So,  in  fact,  I 
have  had  no  luck  at  all,  though,  as  I  say,  I  have  been  gap- 
ing for  it  like  an  oyster  these  five  and  thirty  years." 

Immediately  on  receipt  of  the  news  of  the  rescue  of 
the  passengers  and  crew  of  the  "  Arcadia,"  Miss  Dix 
acted  with  her  usual  thoughtfulness  in  calling  the  at- 


226  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

tention  of  the  Mariners'  Royal  Benevolent  Society 
to  the  gallant  conduct  of  Captain  McKenna  and  his 
men,  and  in  procuring  for  them,  by  unanimous  vote, 
the  gold  medal  of  the  corporation  for  the  chief,  and 
the  silver  medal  for  each  of  those  serving  under  him. 
The  vote  of  the  Royal  Benevolent  Society  bears  date 
August  8,  1855,  though  it  was  not  until  October  1 
that  Miss  Dix  received  and  forwarded  to  Sable  Island, 
from  Vevay  in  Switzerland,  the  medals.  They  were 
accompanied  by  a  letter  full  of  the  admiration  of  a 
heroic  woman  for  brave  and  self-sacrificing  men. 

"  VEVAY,  SWITZERLAND,  October  1,  1855. 
"  To  CAPTAIX  MCKENNA,  Sable  Island :  — 

"  Sir,  —  I  have  the  great  satisfaction  of  communicating 
to  you  and  the  brave  men  under  your  command,  at  Sable 
Island,  a  copy  of  the  documents  which  I  have  this  week  re- 
ceived from  the  secretary  of  the  Mariners'  Royal  Benevolent 
Society,  London,  to  whom  I  communicated  the  facts  of  your 
unhesitating  performance  of  the  sacred  duty  resting  upon 
you  in  giving  succor  to  all  ships  and  persons  in  distress,  by 
reason  of  peril  through  storm  and  wreck,  upon  the  danger- 
ous bars  of  Sable  Island. 

"  No  rewards  can  measure  with  such  services,  and  no  wages 
recompense  them.  Life  is  hazarded  to  save  life,  and  selfish 
considerations  are  absorbed  in  exertions  to  rescue  those 
whose  sole  human  dependence  rests  on  your  heroism  and 
effective  action.  Yet,  I  believe  you  will  highly  value  the 
bestowal  of  the  gold  and  silver  medals  of  the  Royal  Benevo- 
lent Society,  unanimously  awarded,  affording,  as  it  does,  evi- 
dence that  your  services  in  a  lonely  and  desolate  island  are 
honorably  estimated,  and  gratefully  recorded.  I  beg  you 
will  convey  to  the  seamen  serving  under  you  the  expression 
of  my  confidence  in  the  continued  discharge  of  their  duty, 
and  my  prayer  that,  as  you  and  they  in  the  hour  which  tries 
mens'  souls  have  given  help  to  the  helpless,  so  you  all  in 


SABLE  ISLAND.  227 

your  time  of  need,  when  more  than  human  strength  is 
wanted,  may  find  that  succor  which  shall  guide  your  Life 
Boat  safely  into  the  Haven  of  Salvation,  and  land  you  with 
joy  upon  the  shores  of  Eternal  Life. 

"  Your  Friend,  D.  L.  Dix." 

Neither  Capt.  William  Jordan  nor  First  Mate  Dex- 
ter Collamore  were  British  subjects,  and  so  could 
not  come  in  for  their  share  in  the  distribution  of 
medals.  But  as  the  first  of  these  had  stood  bravely 
by  his  ship  and  passengers  till  disabled  by  the  blow  of 
a  wave,  and  the  second,  on  taking  command,  had 
proved  himself  thoroughly  self-possessed,  Miss  Dix 
constituted  herself  a  "  Royal  Benevolent  Society  "  in 
their  behalf,  sending  to  each  a  token  of  her  personal 
esteem,  and  receiving  from  each  a  grateful  and  sailor- 
like  reply.  Near  the  same  date  came  also  a  letter 
from  the  mother  of  one  of  the  shipwrecked  crew, 
which  gives  a  glimpse  of  what  must  have  been  the 
spirit  of  thanksgiving  in  many  a  scattered  house- 
hold. 

11  CASTINE,  MAINE,  March  6.  1855. 
"  MY  FRIEND  AND  BENEFACTRESS,  Miss  Dix,  — 

"  You  will  not  be  surprised  at  this  address  when  I  tell 
you  that  my  son  was  one  of  the  crew  of  the  ship  i  Arcadia,' 
saved  through  your  instrumentality.  While  our  hearts  as- 
cend, I  trust,  to  our  Heavenly  Preserver  with  grateful  emo- 
tions, it  is  fitting  that  we  should  express  to  you  our  thanks 
and  kind  regards,  with  the  hope  that  your  benevolent  ef- 
forts for  elevating  character  and  saving  life  may  be  crowned 
with  success,  and  that  the  blessing  of  many  ready  to  perish 
may  come  upon  you. 

"  Affectionately,  LUCY  S.  ADAMS." 

As  usual  with  Miss  Dix,  this  happy  result  of  her 
efforts  in  behalf  of  Sable  Island,  seems  to  have  acted 


228  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

simply  as  an  incentive  to  farther  activity.  Indeed, 
the  same  held  true  of  the  spirit  of  the  gallant  little 
fleet,  which  again  and  again  distinguished  itself ; 
while  throughout  the  remainder  of  her  own  life,  she 
kept  up  an  unfailing  interest  in  the  life-saving  sta- 
tions all  along  the  coasts  of  the  United  States,  sup- 
plying them  with  libraries,  and  keeping  herself  ever 
on  the  alert  to  learn  and  communicate  anything  new 
bearing  on  their  fullest  equipment  for  their  work.  It 
is,  therefore,  perfectly  characteristic  of  her  to  find, 
within  a  few  days  of  the  receipt  in  England  of  the 
glad  tidings,  an  entry  in  her  journal  which  reads  :  "  I 
have  been  trying  lifeboats  and  visiting  ship-yards, 
listening  to  lectures  on  the  variation  of  the  compass, 
also  much  interested  in  a  project  for  supporting  light- 
houses in  loose  soils  by  screws  that  work  down  deep 
into  the  sands."  Indeed,  few  persons  ever  indorsed 
more  heartily  than  she  the  Cromwellian  maxim,  "  Fear 
God,  and  keep  your  powder  dry."  Impregnable  was 
her  reliance  on  God,  but  never  on  a  God  who  was  not 
jealous  of  the  glory  of  his  own  laws,  or  who  would 
ever  consent  to  bestow  the  crown  of  victory  on  saints 
presumptuous  enough  to  serve  the  artillery  of  heaven 
with  damp  gunpowder.  It  was,  then,  only  a  piece  of 
poetic  justice,  in  consonance  with  Miss  Dix's  inflex- 
ible law  of  life,  that,  in  the  terrible  gale  at  Sable 
Island  it  should  have  been  the  "  Reliance  "  that  "  rode 
the  waves  like  a  duck,"  and  proved  herself  "  Queen 
of  the  Fleet." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    AMERICAN    INVADER. 

AFTER  brief  allusion  to  the  incidents  connected 
with  Miss  Dix's  arrival  in  England,  October,  1854,  it 
became  necessary,  as  has  been  seen,  to  turn  backward 
for  a  while  in  order  to  narrate  consecutively  the  Sable 
Island  episode  in  her  career,  —  the  news  of  the  happy 
success  of  which  reached  her  a  month  or  more  after 
her  landing  in  Liverpool.  At  that  time  we  left  her 
"sadly  tired,"  as  she  confessed,  but  resolving  to 
"  take  things  easier  in  a  week,"  and,  by  way  of  this, 
proposing  in  "  ten  days  to  go  to  Scotland  to  see  the 
hospitals."  Her  immediate  purpose,  however,  seems 
to  have  been  changed  in  favor  of  three  weeks  of  recu- 
perative travel  in  Ireland. 

Indeed,  it  now  fairly  began  to  look  as  though  the 
overtaxed  woman  really  intended  to  give  herself  a 
period  of  protracted  rest,  and  would,  moreover,  have 
keenly  enjoyed  it,  had  not  events  soon  occurred  which 
were  to  awaken  once  again  the  master-passion  of  her 
nature  and  throw  it  into  flaming  activity.  Thus,  as 
late  even  as  December  8,  1854,  she  is  found  writing 
to  her  friend,  Miss  Heath,  in  America :  — 

"  I  could  not  but  smile  at  your  idea  of  my  visiting  the 
prisons  in  Italy,  an  idea,  certainly,  that  you  have  the  sole 
merit  of  suggesting,  for  it  had  not  occurred  to  me,  for  any 
purpose,  to  penetrate  into  those  places  of  so  many  bitter 
memories  and  horrible  sufferings.  What  should  I  gain,  or 


230  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

what  would  others  gain,  by  my  passage  through  those 
dreary  dungeons  and  under  the  Piombini  ?  Where  I  do  visit 
prisons,  it  is  where  I  have  before  me  a  rational  object  and 
a  clear  purpose.  As  I  write,  the  little  birds  are  singing 
1  merrily,  cheerily '  below  my  windows,  the  flowers  on  my 
table  yield  a  sweet  fragrance,  the  lauristinas  open  their  buds 
and  flowers  along  the  walks,  and  the  grass  is  a  vivid 
green." 

From  the  tenor  of  the  above  letter,  it  would  seem 
that  Miss  Dix's  nature  was  imperfectly  sympathetic 
with  the  order  of  sensibilities  which  lead  the  average 
American  tourist  to  feel  that  a  visit  to  Venice  would 
hardly  be  worth  the  discomforts  of  a  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic,  unless  it  yielded  an  hour,  at  least,  of  the 
luxury  of  tears  with  poor  Silvio  Pellico,  under  the 
lead  roofs  of  the  Doge's  palace.  True,  Silvio  Pellico 
has  now  these  many  years  been  dead,  and,  it  is 
devoutly  to  be  hoped,  in  bliss  with  the  saints  in 
heaven.  Still  was  he  not  once  a  poor,  languishing 
prisoner  ?  This  singular  contrast  between  the  imme- 
diate practical  objects  for  which  sentimental  tourists 
effusively  explore  prisons  and  chambers  of  torture, 
and  those  which  actuate  the  Howards  and  Frys  in 
their  grim  fight  with  groans,  curses,  typhus  fever, 
and  broken  idiocy,  is  one  frequently  noted  between 
amateurs  and  professionals  in  philanthropy. 

By  the  26th  of  February,  however,  it  is  evident 
that  Miss  Dix  is  "  taking  things  more  easily  "  after 
the  wonted  fashion  of  her  last  fifteen  years.  She  has 
gone  to  Scotland,  and  is  yielding  herself  to  the  line  of 
least  resistance  as  obediently  as  the  gentle  brook, 
only,  in  this  case,  the  brook  is  a  mountain  torrent  that 
finds  the  natural  outlet  to  its  heroic  temper  in  forcing 
its  way  through  barriers  of  granite.  The  first  letter 


THE  AMERICAN  INVADER.  231 

which  brings  this  out  is  addressed  to  her  friend  Miss 
Heath.  Though  the  letter  is  written  from  Edinburgh, 
not  a  word  does  it  contain  about  the  dungeon  in 
which  hapless  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was  immured, 
nor,  indeed,  about  the  sufferings  of  any  other,  though 
long  departed,  historical  character. 

"  EDINBURGH,  February  26,  1855. 

**  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  If  you  should  visit  Great  Britain, 
recollect  that  no  city  will  claim,  rewardingly,  so  much  of 
your  time  as  this.  I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  enjoy 
the  best  society  here,  and  shall  recollect  so  much  with  great 
pleasure  that  it  is  painful  to  connect  with  it  what  is  very 
much  the  reverse  of  good,  —  I  mean  a  few  of  the  many 
public  institutions  in  the  city  and  neighborhood,  which  are 
preeminently  bad.  Of  these  none  are  so  much  needing 
quick  reform  as  the  private  establishments  for  the  insane. 
I  am  confident  that  this  move  is  to  rest  with  me,  and  that 
the  sooner  I  address  myself  to  this  work  of  humanity,  the 
sooner  will  my  conscience  cease  to  suggest  effort,  or  rebuke 
inaction.  It  will  be  no  holiday  work,  however ;  but  hun- 
dreds of  miserable  creatures  may  be  released  from  a  bitter 
bondage,  which  the  people  at  large  are  quite  unconscious  of. 
It  is  true  I  came  here  for  pleasure,  but  that  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  close  my  eyes  to  the  condition  of  these  most 
helpless  of  all  God's  creatures." 

It  is  clear  from  this  letter  that  Miss  Dix  has  already 
begun  to  strike  upon  abuses  and  miseries  in  Scotland, 
that  fill  her  heart  with  the  same  distress  and  moral 
wrath  inspired  in  her  by  her  first  encounter  with  the 
like  in  her  native  New  England.  This  conviction 
settled  in  an  hour  for  her  all  international  questions. 
Scotland  or  the  United  States !  What  matter  in 
which  of  the  two,  outcast  wretches  were  shivering  in 
chill,  dripping  cells,  chained  to  walls,  beaten  with 


232  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

clubs.  To  what  end,  she  vehemently  argued,  did 
Christ  tell  the  story  of  the  Samaritan  stranger  and 
the  wounded  Jew,  if  every  effort  to  obey  his  call,  "  Go 
thou  and  do  likewise,"  was  to  be  paralyzed  by  the 
modern  travesty  of  the  old,  hard-hearted  Jewish 
maxim,  "  The  Scotch  have  no  dealings  (of  mercy 
even)  with  the  Americans "  ?  It  was  the  Martin 
Luther  spirit  once  again  to  the  front :  "  Here  I  stand, 
God  help  me,  I  cannot  otherwise  !  " 

Remonstrances  from  all  sides  now  came  from  loved 
and  honored  English  friends.  Some  told  her  plainly 
she  could  do  no  good,  and  that  her  action  would  be 
regarded  as  impertinent  interference  on  the  part  of  a 
stranger  and  outsider.  Others  reasoned  with  her  as 
though  she  were  under  the  spell  of  mere  nervous  rest- 
lessness. Still  others  deplored  that,  in  her  state  of  ex- 
haustion, she  should  allow  anything  to  interfere  with 
needful  rest,  and  so  endanger  her  prospects  of  future 
usefulness.  Among  the  last  was  her  venerated  friend, 
Mrs.  William  Rathbone,  to  whom  she  replied  in  a  let- 
ter whose  underscored  words  witness  the  vehemence  of 
her  feeling  in  the  matter. 

To  MRS.  WILLIAM  RATHBONE. 

"  I  am  not  so  very  ill,  only  very  variable,  and,  I  assure 
you,  do  not  work  the  more  for  being  tired.  I  am  not  natu- 
rally very  active,  and  never  do  anything  there  is  a  fair 
chance  other  people  will  take  up.  So,  when  you  know  I  am 
busy,  you  may  be  sure  it  is  leading  the  forlorn  hope,  — 
which  I  conduct  to  a  successful  termination  through  a  cer- 
tain sort  of  obstinacy  that  some  people  make  the  blunder  of 
calling  zeal,  and  the  yet  greater  blunder  of  having  its  first 
inciting  cause  in  philanthropy.  I  have  no  particular  love 
for  my  species  at  large,  but  own  to  an  exhaustless  fund  of 
compassion. 


THE  AMERICAN  INVADER.  233 

"  It  is  pretty  clear  that  I  am  in  for  a  serious  work  in  both 
England  and  Scotland.  I  do  not  see  the  end  of  this  begin- 
ning, but  everybody  says,  who  speaks  at  all  on  this  question, 
that  if  I  go  away  the  whole  work  will  fall  off.  So  I  pur- 
sue what  I  so  strangely  commenced." 

Almost  of  the  same  date,  February  20,  is  another 
letter  to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  which  shows  what  rapid  prog- 
ress she  is  making  in  gaining  adherents,  and  how  ut- 
terly indifferent  is  now  to  her  the  question  whether 
the  work  of  mercy  she  is  engaged  in  shall  chance  to 
fall  within  the  boundaries  of  her  own  country  or  those 
of  a  country  not  her  own. 

*•  EDINBURGH,  February  20,  1855. 

"  Mr  DEAR  MRS.  RATHBONE,  —  The  procession  of  my 
fate  still  holds  me  here.  I  expected  this  night  to  have 
lodged  in  Newcastle,  but  I  am  fairly  in  for  reform  of  the 
establishments  at  Musselburg,  and  have  consented  under  ad- 
vice and  request  of  Mr.  Comb,  Sir  Robert  Arbuthnot,  Lord 
Irving  (Senior  Judge),  the  Lord  Provost,  Dr.  Lincoln,  and 
others,  to  delay  another  week.  I  fear  the  next  move  con- 
nected with  this  may  be  to  London,  but  possibly  not.  Lord 
Teignmouth  and  Sir  Walter  Trevelyan  are  numbered  with 
my  allies.  Your  excellent  friend  Dr.  Traill  is  earnest  in 
this  business.  I  have  asked  him  to  check  the  idea  that 
some  might  naturally  adopt  that  I  came  here  to  take  up  this 
measure,  than  which  nothing  was  ever  farther  from  my 
thoughts.  Dr.  Simpson,  in  his  earnestness,  introduced  me 
to  a  party  the  other  day  as  '  our  timely-arrived  benefactor 
and  reformer.'  This  thought  will  kill  my  plans  outright. 
So  I  gave  Dr.  Traill  the  commission  to  set  others  right. 
Unfortunately,  everybody  is  very  busy,  and  all  say  I  can  do 
what  citizens  cannot.  The  Sheriff  and  the  Procurator  Fis- 
cal are  in  great  perplexity. 

"  I  have  written  a  great  deal  about  myself,  but  do  not 
suppose,  therefore,  that  I  am  self-engrossed.  Tell  Mr.  Rath- 


234  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

bone,  with  my  love,  that  I  can  bear  a  little,  or  a  great  deal, 
of  opposition  and  misapprehension  in  such  a  cause  as  I  am 
pressing  here,  and  that  it  is  a  question  of  conscience  with 
me,  not  a  self-indulging  and  indulgent  pursuit.  .  .  .  But  I 
really  do  not  want  to  create  any  additional  discussion  of  this 
question.  I  have  here  at  all  events  <  passed  the  Rubicon,' 
and  retreat  is  not  to  be  thought  of." 

What  now,  it  becomes  pertinent  to  ask,  was  the  jus- 
tification —  the  dire  necessity,  she  herself  would  have 
said  —  of  Miss  Dix's  thus  heading  the  "  forlorn  hope  " 
and  throwing  herself  into  the  breach,  in  the  determi- 
nation to  bring  to  a  sense  of  their  accountability  be- 
fore God  and  man  the  people  of  another  nationality 
than  her  own  ?  The  justification  can  in  no  way  be 
made  clearer  than  through  the  direct  statements  and, 
generally,  express  words  of  Dr.  Daniel  Hack  Tuke, 
one  of  the  most  prominent  alienists  of  Great  Britain. 
In  his  "  History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Isles,"  1 
Dr.  Tuke  devotes  a  long  section  of  his  work  to  the 
gradual  steps  toward  amelioration  taken  in  Scotland, 
and  emphasizes  at  length  the  obligation  the  whole 
country  lay  under  to  Miss  Dix  for  a  work  at  once  so 
humanely  conceived  and  so  brilliantly  executed,  as  ac- 
tually to  revolutionize  the  Lunacy  'Laws  of  the  land. 
This  writer  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  great-hearted 
Quaker,  William  Tuke,  who  shares  with  Pinel  the  be- 
neficent glory  of  ushering  in  the  Age  of  Humanity  in 
the  treatment  of  insanity.  Moreover,  as  an  eye-wit- 
ness of  the  work  of  Miss  Dix,  in  Scotland,  and  most 

1  Chapters  in  the  History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Isles,  by  Daniel 
Hack  Tuke,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  C.  P.,  President  of  the  Medico-Psychologi- 
cal Association,  Joint  Editor  of  the  Journal  of  Medical  Science,  and 
formerly  Visiting  Physician  to  the  York  Retreat,  London.  Kegan 
Paul,  Trench,  &  Co.,  1  Paternoster  Square,  1882. 


THE  AMERICAN  INVADER.  235 

efficient   sympathizer   with   it,  his   testimony  carries 
additional  weight. 

"  Judging  from  the  records  of  the  past  [says  Dr.  Tuke], 
as  given  or  brought  to  light  by  writers  like  Heron,  Daly  ell, 
and  Dr.  Mitchell,  no  country  ever  exceeded  Scotland  in  the 
grossness  of  its  superstition  and  the  unhappy  consequences 
which  flowed  from  it.  When  we  include  in  this  the  horrible 
treatment  of  the  insane,  from  the  prevalent  and  for  long 
inveterate  belief  in  witchcraft,  we  cannot  find  language 
sufficiently  strong  to  characterize  the  conduct  of  the  people, 
from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  in  the  land,  until  this  mon- 
strous belief  was  expelled  by  the  spread  of  knowledge,  the 
influence  of  which  on  conduct  and  on  law  some  do  not  suf- 
ficiently realize.  The  lunatic  and  the  witch  of  to-day  might 
aptly  exclaim,  — 

' '  The  good  of  ancient  times  let  others  state  : 
I  think  it  lucky  I  was  born  so  late !  ' 

"Passing  [continues  Dr.  Tuke]  over  two  centuries,  I 
must  observe  that  in  1792,  Dr.  Duncan,  then  President  of 
the  Royal  College  of  Physicians  of  Edinburgh,  laid  before 
that  body  a  plan  for  establishing  a  lunatic  asylum  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Edinburgh.  .  .  .  but  enough  money  was 
not  raised  to  start  the  project  in  a  rational  way.  .  .  .  First, 
in  1807,  a  royal  charter  was  obtained,  and  subscriptions  were 
raised,  not  only  from  Scotland,  but  England,  and  even 
India,  Ceylon,  and  the  West  Indies.  Madras,  alone,  sub- 
scribed £1,000.  .  .  .  From  the  beginning,  the  teaching  of 
mental  disease  to  students  was  considered,  as  well  as  the 
cure  and  care  of  the  inmates.  The  management  was  a  wise 
one. 

44  Next  came  an  Act  regulating  madhouses  in  Scotland, 
passed  in  the  year  1815  —  that  important  epoch  in  lunacy 
legislation  in  the  British  Isles.  .  .  . 

"  On  the  3d  of  February,  1818,  a  bill  for  the  erecting  of 
district  lunatic  asylums  in  Scotland  for  the  care  and  con- 


236  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

finement  of  lunatics,  brought  in  by  Lord  Binning  and  Mr. 
Brogden,  was  read  for  the  first  time.  A  few  days  after,  a 
petition  of  the  noblemen,  gentlemen,  freeholders,  justices 
for  the  peace,  commissioners  of  supply,  and  other  heritors 
of  the  County  of  Ayr,  was  presented  against  it.  Persistent 
obstruction  triumphed,  and  the  act  was  rejected. 

"  How  much  legislation  was  needed  at  this  period  is  well 
shown  by  the  description  by  a  philanthropist  (Mr.  J.  J. 
Gurney)  of  the  condition  of  the  lunatics  in  the  Perth  Tol- 
booth.  In  his  investigations,  Mr.  Gurney  was  accompanied 
by  his  indefatigable  sister,  Mrs.  Fry." 

Mr.  Grurney's  report  reads  like  one  of  Miss  Dix's 
own  to  State  legislatures  in  America :  — 

"  Solitary  confinement,  dark  closets  far  more  like  the 
dens  of  wild  animals  than  the  habitations  of  mankind,  cold 
and  nakedness,  no  resident  in  the  house  to  superintend  these 
afflicted  persons,  poor  demented  wretches,  treated  exactly 
as  if  they  had  been  beasts." 

"  Scotland  south  of  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow  [continues 
Dr.  Tuke]  had  not,  nntil  1839,  any  retreat  or  place  of  con- 
finement for  the  insane,  except  six  squalid  stone  cells  at- 
tached to  the  public  hospital  of  Dumfries.  Violent  or 
vagrant  lunatics  were  physically  restrained  in  their  own 
houses,  allowed  to  roam  at  large,  or  incarcerated  in  prisons 
or  police  stations." 

It  was  not,  however,  till  1848,  that  legislation  strik- 
ing at  the  root  of  the  worst  evil  was  really  undertaken. 
Excellent  asylums  there  were  now  in  several  quarters 
of  Scotland,  some  of  them  conducted  on  the  most  ad- 
vanced system.  But  there  was  no  sort  of  provision 
for  the  indigent  insane.  Now,  at  length,  a  bill  de- 
signed, not  merely  to  regulate  existing  asylums  for  the 
well-to-do,  but  to  establish  asylums  for  pauper  luna- 
tics^ was  brought  in  by  the  Lord  Advocate  (Lord 


THE  AMERICAN  INVADER.  237 

Rutherfurd),  Sir  George  Grey,  and  the  Secretary  of 
War.  Alas !  The  old,  cruel  story  was  repeated.  "  Pe- 
titions against  it  poured  in  from  almost  every  shire  in 
Scotland,  and  the  bill  had  unfortunately  to  be  with- 
drawn. Undaunted,  the  Lord  Advocate  made  an- 
other attempt  in  the  following  year,  but  with  the  same 
result."  The  failure  of  this  humane  bill  was  fre- 
quently deplored  in  the  debates  of  succeeding  years. 
Still,  it*  was  a  brave  attempt,  which,  as  Dr.  Tuke  says 
in  a  private  letter,  "  no  doubt  to  some  extent  prepared 
the  way  for  the  victory  Miss  Dix  achieved." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  [goes  on  the  '  History  of  the  Insane 
in  the  British  Isles  ']  to  dwell  longer  on  the  condition  of  the 
insane,  or  the  legislation  adopted  on  their  behalf,  till  we 
come  to  the  year  1855,  which  proved  to  be  the  commence- 
ment of  a  new  departure  in  the  care  taken  of  them  by  the 
State.  Unfortunately,  in  spite  of  legal  enactment,  the  state 
of  the  insane  in  Scotland  at  this  time,  outside  the  asylums, 
was  as  bad  as  it  could  be,  and  even  in  some  asylums  it  was 
deplorable.  At  this  period  a  well-known  American  lady, 
Miss  Dix,  who  devoted  her  life  to  the  interests  of  the 
insane,  visited  Scotland,  and  the  writer  had  the  opportunity 
of  hearing  from  her  own  lips,  on  her  return  from  her  philan- 
thropic expedition,  the  narration  of  what  she  saw  of  the 
cruel  neglect  of  the  pauper  lunatics  in  that  country.  She 
caused  so  much  sensation  by  her  visits  and  her  remon- 
strances, accompanied  by  the  intimation  that  she  should 
report  what  she  witnessed  at  headquarters  in  London,  that 
a  certain  official  in  Edinburgh  decided  to  anticipate  'the 
American  Invader,'  as  Dr.  W.  A.  F.  Browne  called  her. 
Miss  Dix  was,  however,  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  hurriedly 
leaving  the  scene  of  her  investigations,  she  took  the  night 
mail  to  London,  and  appeared  before  the  Home  Secretary 
on  the  following  day,  when  the  gentleman  from  Edinburgh 
was  still  on  the  road,  quite  unconscious  that  the  good  lady 


238  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

had  already  traversed  it.  The  facts  she  laid  before  the 
Home  Office  were  so  startling  that  they  produced  a  marked 
effect,  and,  notwithstanding  counter  allegations,  the  conclu- 
sion was  very  soon  arrived  at  that  there  was  sufficient  prima 
facie  evidence  to  justify  an  inquiry.  A  Royal  Commission 
was  appointed,  dated  April  3,  1855,  to  inquire  into  the 
condition  of  lunatic  asylums  in  Scotland,  and  the  existing 
state  of  the  law  of  that  country  in  reference  to  lunatics  and 
lunatic  asylums." 

Such,  then,  in  brief  outline,  is  the  history  of  lunacy 
legislation  in  Scotland  up  to  the  date  of  Miss  Dix's 
arrival  there  late  in  January,  1855.  Seven  years  be- 
fore, in  1848,  as  has  been  seen,  the  memorable  struggle 
in  Parliament,  led  by  Lord  Advocate  Rutherfurd, 
Lord  Ashley,  Sir  James  Graham,  Mr.  E.  Ellice,  Mr. 
Stuart  Wortley,  and  Mr.  H.  Drummond,  to  secure 
humane  provision  for  the  pauper  lunatic,  had  been 
cruelly  defeated  through  the  flood  of  selfish  protests 
against  the  bill  poured  in  from  almost  every  shire  in 
Scotland.  The  bill  had  finally  been  abandoned  in 
despair,  and  no  farther  courage  was  left  to  lead  the 
"  forlorn  hope."  And  yet  by  April  9,  1855,  a  little 
more  than  two  months  after  the  arrival  there  of  a 
single-handed  woman,  and  she  a  suffering  invalid  and 
a  foreigner,  the  following  Order  of  Commission  was 
issued  by  Queen  Victoria :  — 

"  WHITEHALL,  April  9,  1855. 

"  The  Queen  has  been  pleased  to  direct  letters  patent  to  be 
passed  under  the  seal  appointed  by  the  Treaty  of  Union,  to 
be  kept  and  made  use  of  in  place  of  the  Great  Seal  of  Scot- 
land, appointing, 

"William  Gaskell,  Esq.,  Fellow  of  the  Royal  College  of 
Surgeons  :  William  George  Campbell,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Sheriff 
of  the  Shire  of  Fife  :  Alexander  Earle  Monteith,  Esq.,  Barris- 


Till-:  AMERICAN  INVADER.  239 

ter  at  Law :  and  James  Coxe,  Esq.,  Doctor  of  Medicine  :  to 
be  her  Majesty's  Commissioners  for  the  purpose  of  inquir- 
ing into  the  state  of  the  Lunatic  Asylums  in  Scotland,  and 
also  into  the  present  state  of  the  law  respecting  Lunatics 
and  Lunatic  Asylums  in  that  part  of  the  United  Kingdom." 

In  all  this,  the  simple  facts  of  the  case  tell  their  own 
story,  —  perhaps  more  impressively  than  with  any 
added  comment.  Still,  if  a  certain  local  light  and  at- 
mosphere can  be  thrown  around  the  naked  facts,  they 
will  appeal  more  vividly  to  the  imagination.  This  will 
be  attempted  in  the  ensuing  chapter.  Fortunately, 
there  remain  a  number  of  private  letters  and  narra- 
tives, which  render  it  possible  to  do  this.  Enough 
now  and  here,  to  say  that  alike  in  its  inception,  in  the 
masterly  manner  in  which  it  was  conducted,  and  in  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  devoted  noblemen,  statesmen, 
philanthropists,  and  men  of  the  highest  medical  au- 
thority were  inspired  to  rally  under  its  banner,  the 
whole  achievement  was  the  work  of  a  single  woman. 
On  all  sides  was  the  entire  credit  of  the  feat  gener- 
ously and  unreservedly  given  to  Miss  Dix.  No  trace 
of  envy  or  of  national  jealousy  intervened  to  deny  her 
the  full  meed  of  praise.  At  the  most,  it  was  deplored, 
as  by  Sir  George  Grey  on  the  floor  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  that  the  inauguration  of  so  needed  a  reform 
should  have  been  left  to  the  initiative  of  "  a  foreigner, 
and  that  foreigner  a  woman,  and  that  woman  a  dis- 
senter." Perhaps,  this  frank  avowal  cannot  be  more 
implicitly  stated  than  in  the  following  extract  from 
the  speech  of  Mr.  Ellice,  M.  P. :  - 

"  The  Commission  was  entirely  due  to  Miss  Dix's  exer- 
tion. After  visiting  the  lunatic  asylums  of  England,  she 
proceeded  to  Scotland,  where  her  suspicions  were  aroused 
by  the  great  difficulty  she  experienced  in  penetrating  into  the 


240  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

lunatic  asylums  of  Scotland ;  but  when  she  did  gain  access, 
she  found  the  unfortunate  inmates  were  in  a  most  miserable 
condition.  She  came  to  London  and  placed  herself  in  com- 
munication with  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home  De- 
partment and  with  the  Duke  of  Argyll,  and  at  her  instance 
and  without  any  public  movement  on  the  subject,  a  Royal 
Commission  was  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the 
lunatic  asylums  of  Scotland.  No  one,  we  feel  sure,  could 
read  the  Report  of  the  Commission  without  feeling  grateful 
to  that  lady  for  having  been  instrumental  in  exposing  pro- 
ceedings which  were  disgraceful  to  this  or  to  any  civilized 
country."  1 

1  Parliamentary  Debates,  vol.  cxiv.,  p.  1025. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  ROYAL    COMMISSION. 

TOWARD  the  attempt  in  this  chapter  to  revive  the 
memory  of  some  of  the  local  incidents  connected  with 
Miss  Dix's  Scotch  experiences,  in  1855,  the  writer  of 
this  biography  is  under  great  obligation  to  Dr.  Daniel 
Hack  Tuke  for  a  letter,  dated  Hanwell,  England, 
August,  1888,  embodying  his  own  memories  of  those 
exciting  days.  Other  letters,  partly  of  Miss  Dix  her- 
self, and  partly  of  friends  who  were  eye-witnesses  of 
all  that  was  going  on,  will  follow. 

"  My  reminiscences  of  Miss  Dix's  visit  to  this  country,  in 
1855  [writes  Dr.  Tuke],  during  which  visit  she  was  for 
some  weeks  our  guest  at  York,  are  exceedingly  vivid  as  to 
the  general  impression  left  upon  the  memory,  but  I  regret 
to  say,  that  the  lapse  of  time  —  about  three  and  thirty 
years  —  has  to  some  extent  obliterated  the  details,  in- 
teresting and  fruitful  in  result  as  they  were,  in  the  cause 
of  the  insane  which  she  had  so  much  at  heart. 

"  She  was  very  much  out  of  health,  and  indeed  was  confined 
to  bed  for  some  days,  but  the  indomitable  energy  with 
which  she  pursued  her  mission  was  extraordinary.  She 
visited  most  of  the  institutions  for  the  insane  about  York, 
and  I  remember  that  on  our  driving  in  a  hired  vehicle  to 
one  of  them,  she  showed  that  her  sympathies  were  not  re- 
stricted to  the  insane  by  remonstrating  with  the  driver  for 
his  treatment  of  the  horse.  .  .  . 

"  It  was  during  Miss  Dix's  sojourn  at  York  that  she  deter- 
mined to  ascertain  the  condition  of  the  insane  in  Scotland. 


242  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA    L.  DIX. 

That  country  was  justly  famed  for  its  excellent  chartered 
asylums,*  the  result  of  philanthropic  endowments,  and  main- 
tained by  the  payments  of  a  certain  number  of  higher  class 
patients.  Miss  Dix,  however,  knew  full  well  from  her  ex- 
perience of  her  own  country,  that  such  might  be  the  case, 
and  yet  a  great  mass  of  poor  lunatics  be  altogether  neglected 
and  shamefully  treated.  And  so  it  proved.  Her  intrepid 
raid  upon  the  dwellings  where  lunatics  and  idiots  were 
stowed  away,  her  visits  to  workhouses  and  to  some  asylums 
in  which  paupers  were  confined,  confirmed  her  worst  mis- 
givings, and  her  revelations  took  many  of  the  Scotch  them- 
selves by  surprise. 

"  It  would  have  been  more  fitting  had  members  of  the 
medical  profession  in  Scotland  ascertained  and  protested 
against  this  deplorable  condition  of  things,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  when  this  terrible  reformer,  yet  gentle  lady, 
came  from  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  to  set  their  house 
in  order,  the  Scotch  doctors  were  disposed  to  resent  the  in- 
trusion. To  some  of  these  very  men  it  proved,  however,  a 
boon,  for  when  an  inquiry  was  instituted,  and  a  Lunacy 
Commission  was  established  in  Edinburgh,  they  were  placed 
on  the  Board.  At  the  present  day,  there  is  not  a  doctor  in 
Scotland,  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  insane  and  in  the 
splendid  asylums  now  in  operation  in  that  country,  who 
would  not  acknowledge  the  profound  debt  of  gratitude  due 
to  Miss  Dix  for  her  courage,  her  pertinacity,  and  her  judi- 
cious advice.  .  .  . 

"  One  amusing  and  characteristic  incident  of  Miss  Dix's 
exposure  of  the  treatment  of  the  insane  in  some  parts  of  the 
country  will  no  doubt  be  referred  to  in  her  biography,  the 
sudden  departure  of  the  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh  to  Lon- 
don, in  order  to  forestall  the  American  lady's  representations 
to  the  Home  Secretary.  Although  this  was  before  the 
racing  of  rival  trains  between  Edinburgh  and  London,  wit- 

1  I  speak  of  them  as  a  class.  I  am  aware  that  some  were  not  in  a 
creditable  state,  and  that  all  are  at  the  present  time  in  a  vastly  im- 
proved condition. 


THE  ROYAL   COMMISSION.  243 

nessed  at  the  present  moment  (August,  1888),  the  two  actors 
in  the  scene  did  undertake  an  exciting  race  to  the  English 
capital,  with  the  result  that  the  lady  beat  the  gentleman, 
although  by  a  very  short  space,  interviewed  the  Secretary 
of  State,  and  produced  an  impression  upon  him  too  power- 
ful to  be  removed  by  the  assertions  of  the  Lord  Provost. 
Fresh  from  her  great  exertions,  she  returned  to  York,  much 
exhausted,  but  sanguine  as  to  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
mission  she  had  so  bravely  undertaken.  .  .  . 

"  You  ask  me  to  indicate  the  salient  features  of  Miss 
Dix's  character  as  they  struck  me  when  I  knew  her.  It 
seems  to  me  that  what  I  have  now  written  is  really  the  best 
answer  I  can  give  to  your  request,  but  I  may  add  a  few 
words.  What  she  told  me  of  having  in  the  early  part  of  her 
life  intended  to  live  mainly  to  herself,  to  enjoy  literature  and 
art  without  any  higher  aims,  and  of  having  discovered  that 
this  was  a  fatal  mistake,  and  resolved  to  devote  her  energies 
to  the  good  of  man,  seems  to  me  the  pivot  on  which  her 
future  career  revolved.  The  lines  of  one  of  her  country- 
women might  seem  to  have  been  especially  composed  to 
describe  the  change  which  came  over  Miss  Dix  :  — 

"  '  I  slept  arid  dreamt  that  life  was  beauty, 
I  woke,  and  found  that  life  was  duty.' 

In  complete  accord  with  the  same  idea,  I  may  mention  that 
on  the  fly-leaf  of  her  own  Bible,  presented  to  me  when  she 
left  our  house,  she  had  written  Wordsworth's  *  Ode  to 
Duty.' 

"  Her  long  sustained  exertions,  undertaken  from  the  high- 
est motives,  mark  the  untiring  and  irrepressible  energy  and 
fortitude  which  more  especially  struck  me  during  our  per- 
sonal acquaintance.  That  these  qualities  must  have  exerted 
enormous  influence  in  inducing  others  —  especially  young 
physicians  —  to  engage  in  the  humane  treatment  of  the 
insane  can  easily  be  understood.  .  .  . 

"The  refinement  and  intrinsic  gentleness  of  Miss  Dix 
had  much  to  do  with  the  esteem  and  affection  entertained 


244  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

for  her,  because  they  disarmed  the  criticism  and  opposition 
which  were  hot  unnaturally  excited  when  a  woman  entered 
the  public  arena,  and  was  expected  to  commit  injudicious 
and  emotional  acts,  however  well-intentioned  they  might  be. 
But  Miss  Dix's  enthusiasm  was  based  on  actual  facts  and 
undeniable  abuses,  while  the  remedies  she  proposed  were 
those  which  commended  themselves  to  the  best  men  engaged 
in  the  treatment  of  the  insane  in  the  United  States. 

"  I  will  only  say,  in  conclusion,  that  in  whatever  other  de- 
partment Miss  Dix  may  have  earned  the  gratitude  of  man- 
kind, in  that  of  the  proper  care  and  humane  treatment  of  the 
insane  (not  the  so-called  nonrestraint  system  which  she  did 
not  accept)  she  ought  to  be  regarded  as  the  patron  saint  of 
every  hospital  for  this  class  established  through  her  instru- 
mentality, as  an  angel  of  mercy,  not  only  in  her  own,  but  in 
other  lands,  and  therefore  held  in  everlasting  remembrance 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  as  one  worthy  of  double  honor. 

"  D.  HACK  TUKE. 

"HANWELL,  August,  1888." 

In  preceding  extracts,  allusion  has  more  than  once 
been  made  to  the  exciting  railway  race  from  Edinburgh 
to  London  between  Miss  Dix  and  the  Lord  Provost  of 
Edinburgh,  each  bent  on  first  gaining  the  ear  and 
prepossessing  the  mind  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  Sir 
George  Grey.  The  result  of  the  race  was  one  more 
illustration  of  Napoleon's  favorite  sayings  that  "  the 
rarest  kind  of  courage  is  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
courage,"  and  that  he  "  had  always  noticed  that  these 
odd  fifteen  minutes  determined  the  fate  of  the  battle." 

The  Lord  Provost  stopped  to  have  his  trunk  packed, 
and  to  journey  comfortably  by  day.  Miss  Dix  grasped 
a  hand-bag  and  boarded  the  night  train.  How  much 
the  whole  issue  of  the  reform  which  revolutionized  the 
lunacy  legislation  of  Scotland  turned  on  the  twelve 
hours  start  thus  effected  by  Miss  Dix's  lightning-swift 
decision,  it  is  of  course  impossible  to  say. 


THE  ROYAL   COMMISSION.  245 

One  important  point  gained  is,  however,  certain. 
The  hot  haste  with  which  she  traveled  secured  for  her 
the  opportunity  for  another  of  those  interviews  at  close 
quarters,  in  which  her  commanding  personality  reached 
the  culmination  of  its  power.  Already  has  it  been 
seen  how  one  of  those  memorable  interviews,  that  with 
Mr.  Cyrus  Butler,  of  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  se- 
cured the  foundation  of  the  Butler  Asylum ;  and  how 
another,  that  with  Mr.  Thomas  Blagden,  of  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.,  led  to  the  immediate  surrender  on  his  part 
of  the  magnificent  site  at  present  occupied  by  the 
Army  and  Navy  Lunatic  Asylum.  The  third  is  now 
on  the  eve  between  herself  and  Sir  George  Grey. 
Later  on,  a  fourth  is  to  be  witnessed  in  Rome,  with 
Pope  Pius  IX.  What  depths  in  the  heart  were 
reached  in  those  exceptional  hours,  and  how  abiding 
was  the  impression  wrought,  can  now  be  judged  only 
by  the  momentous  results  which  followed,  or,  here  and 
there,  by  a  brief  expression  like  that  in  Mr.  Blagden's 
letter:  " Regarding  you,  as  I  do,  as  the  instrument 
in  the  hands  of  God  to  secure  this  very  spot  for  the 
unfortunates  whose  best  earthly  friend  you  are,  I  sin- 
cerely believe  that  the  Almighty's  blessing  will  not 
rest  on,  nor  abide  with,  those  who  may  place  obstacles 
in  your  way." 

Fortunately,  there  has  been  preserved  a  more  than 
ordinarily  long  letter  of  Miss  Dix  herself,  —  to  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Samuel  Torrey,  of  Boston,  Massachusetts, 
—  in  which  the  flying  trip  to  London,  and  the  great 
results  it  led  to,  are  circumstantially  detailed.  The 
letter  is  here  subjoined  :  — 

"  LONDON,  18  GLOUCESTER  SQUARE,  March  8,  1855. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  am  here  only  on  business,  and 
for  a  short  time  at  present,  intending  to  return  to  Edinburgh 


246  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

in  a  few  days.  .  .  .  While  in  Edinburgh,  I  had  discovered 
eleven  Private  Establishments  for  the  Insane,  to  which 
licenses  had  been  given  by  the  Sheriff  of  Mid-Lothian  (who 
exercises  the  function  of  Chief  Justice  in  the  High  Court  of 
the  County)  without  regard  to  the  special  qualifications 
requisite.  People  of  the  lowest  grade  of  character,  and  very 
ignorant,  had  been  accepted  upon  their  application  for  lib- 
erty to  open  houses  for  all  classes  of  patients. 

**  The  Public  Institutions  for  the  treatment  of  Insanity  are 
good,  very  good.  I  have  visited  all  these,  namely,  Dumfries, 
Marston,  Glasgow,  Perth,  Dundee,  Aberdeen,  and  Edin- 
burgh, besides  thirteen  private  houses,  some  of  which  have 
several  hundred  patients.  But  as  I  was  saying,  those  at 
Mussellburgh,  six  miles  from  Edinburgh,  were  so  very  ill 
ordered,  and  the  proprietors  so  irresponsible  for  all  they 
did,  or  did  not  do,  that  I  took  decisive  steps,  calling  the  at- 
tention of  the  Lord  Provost,  Dr.  Traile,  the  Chief  Justices, 
and  other  influential  citizens  to  their  condition. 

"  The  law  is  singularly  defective,  allowing,  without  consent 
of  the  proprietors,  no  admission  to  these  places,  except  in 
the  person  of  the  Sheriff  of  Mid-Lothian,  who  may  take  a 
physician  of  the  Medical  College  on  his  semi-annual  visita- 
tions. The  semi-annual  visits  of  medical  men,  employed  by 
the  proprietors,  were  not  likely  to  control  the  direction  of 
the  parties.  The  law  required  them  to  report  abuses,  if 
abuses  existed ;  their  pecuniary  interests  urged  them  to 
pass  them  in  silence  ;  in  fine,  the  proprietors  had  the  thing 
all  their  own  way,  and  they  were  intent  on  making  money. 
"  The  Sheriff,  when  I  appealed  to  him  as  really  the  sole 
authority,  trifled,  jested,  and  prevaricated.  I  could  not  ex- 
cuse this.  The  weather  was  very  cold,  the  poor  patients 
by  hundreds  suffering.  I  consulted  the  Justice,  three  physi- 
cians, Mr.  Comb,  and  Mr.  Mackenzie,  Sir  Robert  Arbuthnot, 
and  several  besides.  The  conclusion  was  that  nothing  would 
do  but  to  demand  of  the  Home  Secretary,  Sir  George  Grey, 
in  London,  a  Commission  for  Investigation.  But  who  was 
to  go  ?  One  was  an  invalid,  a  dozen  had  urgent  professional 


THE   ROYAL    COMMISSION.  247 

business.  /  —  why  could  not  /  go  ?  said  one  and  another. 
It  was  clear  to  me  that  if  I  would  see  this  done  at  once, 
which  was  so  much  needed,  I  must  go. 

"  I  looked  into  my  purse,  and  counted  time,  and  consid- 
ered my  health,  —  for  I  had  not  felt  so  strong  for  some  days 
as  I  could  desire,  —  but  my  conscience  told  me  quite  dis- 
tinctly what  was  my  duty.  I  took,  then,  my  carpet-bag,  and 
wrapping  about  me  my  warm  traveling  garments,  called  a 
cab,  and  at  a  quarter  past  nine  P.  M.  put  myself  into  the 
express  train  direct  for  London,  expecting  to  arrive  in 
twelve  hours,  four  hundred  miles.  I  first  telegraphed  to  Lord 
Shaftesbury,  asking  an  interview  at  three  P.  M.  the  following 
day,  and  naming  the  King's  Cross  Station  as  my  point  of 
arrival.  I  did  not  sleep,  but  was  comfortable.  An  accident 
at  nine  A.  M.  detained  the  train  till  eleven  A.  M.,  which 
should  have  arrived  an  hour  and  a  half  earlier. 

"I  had  never  been  in  London,  knew  not  one  location. 
I  stepped  from  the  royal  mail  carriage,  and  a  gentleman 
in  a  moment  asked  if  I  was  Miss  Dix,  and  announced  a 
messenger  from  Lord  Shaftesbury,  accepting  my  appoint- 
ment at  the  C office,  19  Whitehall  Place. 

"  I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  only  an  hour  to  twelve. 
I  had  not  time  to  dress  for  presentation,  took  a  cab,  and 
asking  the  distance  to  Kensington,  where  I  had  learned  was 
the  residence  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  (for  I  could  reach  that 
point  in  an  hour),  threw  off  my  traveling  cloak  in  the  cab 
for  a  velvet  I  had  in  my  hand,  folded  a  cashmere  shawl  on, 
and  believe  I  did  not  look  so  much  amiss  as  one  traveling 
so  far  might  look. 

"  The  clock  struck  twelve.  I  was  at  Argyle  Lodge  on 

C Hill,  Kensington.  The  bell  was  rung  ;  a  servant 

answered.  I  sent  in  my  card  ;  was  introduced  ;  found  the 
Duchess  and  two  others  in  the  library  with  the  Duke  ; 
opened  my  subject ;  asked  of  his  Grace  immediate  commu- 
nication on  his  part  in  behalf  of  Scotland  with  the  Home 
Secretary.  An  hour  and  a  half  settled  matters.  His  Grace 


248  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

would  call  for  me  at  Whitehall  Place  at  three  and  a  half,  to 
go  to  Downing  Street. 

"  I  was  to  proceed  to  the  former  place  at  once  ;  found 
myself  there  at  two  and  a  half.  Happily,  Lord  Shaftesbury 
anticipated  his  time,  and  I  found  all  the  Board  in  session. 
We  talked  the  whole  subject  over  ;  settled  that  no  time 
ought  to  be  lost  in  urging  the  usually  tardy  Secretary.  His 
Grace  the  Duke  arrived  and  reported  Sir  George  Grey 
summoned  to  a  council  at  Buckingham  Palace,  but  said, 
*  You  shall  see  him  yourself,  but  I  shall  now  meet  him  at 
the  palace,  and  will  state  what  you  have  said.' 

"  It  was  now  4  p.  M.  I  could  do  no  more  till  the  follow- 
ing day,  so  sent  for  a  cab,  and  drove  to  38  Gloucester 
Square  to  my  banker's  (Mr.  Morgan),  asked  for  a  basin  of 
water  to  wash  my  neglected  face  and  hands,  a  cup  of  tea, 
and  bed,  all  of  which  Mr.  Morgan's  prompt  orders  secured. 
In  the  evening  I  got  a  note  from  his  Grace,  saying  that  Sir 
George  doubted  his  authority  to  order  a  commission  for 
Scotland,  that  the  Lord  Advocate  must  be  consulted.  This 
I  did  not  wish,  for  I  knew  social  and  political  interests 
would  hinder  the  right  action  of  Lord  Moncrieff.  In  the 
morning  I  drove  again  to  Argyle  Lodge.  His  Grace  said 
that  Sir  George  expressed  willingness  to  comply,  but  hes- 
itated to  act.  He  would  see  him  again.  I  saw,  then,  Lord 
Shaftesbury  and  got  forward  some  affairs  respecting  the 
English  hospitals. 

"  The  next  day  a  note  from  the  Duke  informed  me  that 
the  Home  Secretary  had  written  to  the  Lord  Advocate  at 
Edinburgh.  I  took  a  carriage  and  determined  to  see  Sir 
George  myself,  drove  to  Downing  Street,  sent  up  my  card 
with  a  written  request  for  a  personal  interview  in  the  recep- 
tion room  of  the  Home  Department ;  was  ushered  up  with 
some  state,  and  received  courteously  by  his  Lordship  ;  stated 
my  wishes.  Sir  George  said  he  had  already  consulted  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  and  he  doubted  his  power  to  issue  war- 
rants without  the  concurrence  of  the  Lord  Advocate  ('  to 


THE  ROYAL   COMMISSION.  249 

whom  I  have  telegraphed,'  added  Sir  George,  '  and  who  will 
forthwith  come  to  London.  He  may  be  here  on  Monday.') 
Next  I  received  the  thanks  of  the  Home  Secretary  for  my 
efforts,  thanked  him  in  return  for  his  early  attention  to  the 
subject  and  unprecedented  alacrity  in  the  annals  of  public 
affairs  here,  and  proceeded  to  see  Sir  James  Clark,  the 
Queen's  physician.  He  entered  cordially  into  my  plans,  and 
so  I  waited. 

"Monday  the  Lord  Advocate  did  not  come.  Tuesday 
still  not  heard  from,  nor  Wednesday.  Thursday  he  arrived, 
and  sent  a  note  appointing  to  call  the  following  day.  We 
had  a  long  conference.  I  got  the  promise  from  him  that 
the  Commission  of  reform  for  all  Scotland  should  at  once  be 
formed.  Sir  George  Grey  had  taken  orders  to  that  effect, 
with  his  concurrence,  the  Lord  Chancellor  approving.  To- 
day I  have  all  business  closed.  I  have  two  Commissions, 
one  of  inquiry,  one  of  investigation  in  Mid-Lothian.  This 
assures,  first,  reports  into  the  condition  of  all  the  insane  in 
Scotland.  Next  the  entire  modification  of  the  Lunacy 
laws,  the  abrogation  of  all  Private  establishments ;  the 
establishment  of  two  or  three  new  general  hospitals,  etc. 
My  odd  time  I  have  spent  chiefly  in  securing  the  interest 
and  votes  of  members  of  Parliament  for  the  Bill  soon  to  be 
introduced,  and  now  I  go  back  to  Edinburgh  to-morrow  to 
report  this  to  parties  interested,  and  to  rest  if  I  need  it, 
which  is  more  than  probable.  In  two  weeks  I  shall  go  to 
Walsington,  the  seat  of  Sir  Walter-Calverley  Trevelyan, 
who  has  with  Lady  Trevelyan  invited  me  there,  and  they 
will  do  the  honors  of  Northumberland.  I  cannot  write 
more  DOW.  Yours  truly, 

"D.  L.  Dix." 

Two  other  brief  notes  of  Miss  Dix,  to  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Rathbone,  of  Liverpool,  —  the  first  expressive 
of  amazement  at  the  opportunities  for  concealment 
afforded  the  Private  Insane  Asylums  of  Scotland,  and 
the  other  indulging  in  the  freest  strictures  on  certain 


250  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

of  the  Scotch  officials,  —  are  all  that  remain  of  her 
correspondence  from  London. 

"LONDON,  February  27,  1855. 

"Sir  George  Grey  has  consulted  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
and,  strange  as  is  the  fact,  it  is  doubted  if  any  official  party 
in  England  has  the  right  to  authorize  the  inspection  of  any 
private  madhouse  of  whatever  capacity  in  Scotland.  The 
question  is  now  under  debate." 

"  LONDON,  February  28,  1855. 

"  The  Sheriff  is  a  bad  man,  wholly  despotic,  and  ridicules 
the  entire  idea  of  reform  ;  the  Procurator  Fiscal  is  not,  like 
the  Sheriff,  a  dissipated  man,  but  a  member  and  elder  of 
Dr.  Guthrie's  church,  but  tied  with  red  tape  to  the  Sheriff ; 
the  Lord  Advocate  is  crowded  with  business  and  is  a  selfish 
man,  so  that  I  have  an  odd  sort  of  work  on  my  hands. 
But  ultimately  good  will  result  from  this.  I  certainly  hold 
myself  much  better  occupied  in  doing  this  work  than  in 
strolling  about  Rome  or  Florence." 

Her  task  in  London  thus  successfully  ended,  Miss 
Dix  as  soon  as  possible  went  back  to  Scotland,  to 
mass  farther  material  for  a  report  to  be  submitted  to 
the  Royal  Commission,  which  should  start  and  keep 
them  on  the  real  scent.  By  native  instinct  and  years 
of  training  she  had  long  since  become  master  of  the  art 
of  tracking  to  their  hidden  lairs,  and  dragging  out  to 
the  light  of  day,  the  sullenest  and  most  secret  shapes 
of  human  deceit  and  cruelty.  All  in  vain  was  it  to  seek 
to  throw  her  off  the  scent.  Keen-sighted,  and  tireless  as 
an  American  Indian  hunter,  when  once  she  had  struck 
the  trail  of  duplicity  and  greed,  she  followed  it  relent- 
lessly through  thicket,  defile,  or  swamp,  till  she  had 
come  up  with  poor  wretches  hidden  in  the  Cave  of 
Despair  to  which  it  led.  A  sort  of  terror,  as  of  the 
terror  of  vermin  before  nobler  creatures  of  the  hunt, 


THE  ROYAL   COMMISSION.  251 

inevitably  set  in  upon  the  objects  of  her  pursuit. 
Thence  the  impression  she  made  on  all  the  friends  of 
reform  in  Scotland ;  and  thence  their  insistence  that, 
should  she  draw  back,  everything  would  relapse  into 
the  old  state  of  apathy  and  despair.  She,  a  for- 
eigner and  a  woman,  was  besought  to  go  to  London 
to  bring  the  whole  issue  before  the  highest  tribunal  of 
the  United  Kingdom,  simply  because  it  was  instinc- 
tively felt  that  no  one  else  could  do  it  with  such  com- 
manding authority  of  knowledge  and  character. 

Setting  to  work  on  the  trails  opened  to  them  by 
Miss  Dix,  the  members  of  the  Royal  Commission  soon 
thoroughly  indorsed  the  fidelity  of  the  revelation  of 
shame  and  cruelty  she  had  so  impressively  made.  By 
May  14,  Dr.  James  Coxe,  of  the  Commission,  wrote 
her :  — 

"  We  came  home  yesterday  from  a  hurried  raid  upon 
Perth  and  Dundee,  and  start  to-morrow  for  Glasgow, 
Greenock,  etc.  We  have  seen  enough  already  to  convince 
us  that  there  is  ample  field  for  work  before  us  which  cannot 
fail  to  bring  a  glorious  harvest.  Hitherto,  we  have  scarcely 
scraped  the  ground." 

Likewise,  Dr.  David  Skae,  of  the  Royal  Edinburgh 
Asylum  for  the  Insane,  continually  wrote  her,  express- 
ing his  amazement  at  her  power  to  impress  influential 
people,  and  insisting  that  she  was  still  indispensable 
to  the  complete  triumph  of  the  good  work. 

Though  the  immediate  personal  share  of  Miss  Dix 
in  the  matter  of  reform  in  Scotland  was  now  in  a 
month  or  two  to  end,  it  is  of  interest  to  pursue  here 
the  subsequent  work  of  the  Royal  Commission,  as  well 
as  to  tell  the  story  of  the  practical  legislation  in  Par- 
liament, which  was  the  result  of  their  investigations. 


252  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

Not  before  1857  —  almost  a  year  after  the  return 
of  Miss  Dix  to  the  United  States  —  did  the  Commis- 
sion make  its  report  to  Parliament.  Its  radical  char- 
acter, however,  when  once  made  pnblic,  may  be  judged 
from  a  few  extracts :  — 

"  It  is  obvious  [says  the  Report]  that  an  appalling  amount 
of  misery  prevails  throughout  Scotland  in  this  respect.1 
When  estimating  the  condition  of  the  insane  not  in  estab- 
lishments, it  should  be  remembered  that  the  details  fur- 
nished by  us  give  only  an  imperfect  representation  of  the 
true  state  of  matters.  They  form  only  a  part  of  the  picture 
of  misery ;  and  had  we  been  able  to  extend  our  investiga- 
tions, it  would,  we  are  convinced,  have  assumed  a  much 
darker  shade." 

It  is  not  needful  here  to  go  into  particulars  of  the 
enormities  encountered  on  all  sides.  The  reader  of 
this  biography  has  already  gone  over  precisely  parallel 
details,  of  necessity  presented  in  describing  Miss  Dix's 
early  work  in  the  United  States.  That,  in  either 
county,  the  same  hard-hearted  brutality  characterized 
many  of  the  overseers  of  pauper  lunatics  is  clear 
enough  from  the  testimony  of  one  of  them  before  the 
Commission,  who,  after  admitting  that  numbers  of  the 
patients,  men  and  women,  were  stripped  at  night,  and 
huddled  together  on  loose  straw  in  a  state  of  perfect 
nudity,  went  on  to  add,  "  I  consider  the  treatment  is 
proper  for  them" 

In  short,  both  as  regards  licensed  houses  and  unli- 
censed houses,  the  report  winds  up  by  giving  a  dismal 
picture ;  for  as  to  the  former,  "  They  are  crowded  in 
an  extreme  degree.  Profit  is  the  principal  object  of 
the  proprietors,  and  the  securities  against  abuse  are 
very  inadequate ; "  and  as  to  the  latter,  "  They  have 

1  Condensed  from  The  History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Isles. 


THE  ROYAL    COMMISSION.  253 

been  opened  as  trading  concerns  for  the  reception  of 
a  certain  class  of  patients  who  are  detained  in  them 
without  any  safeguard  whatever  against  ill-treatment 
and  abuse." 

"  The  Report  once  fully  presented  to  Parliament,  Mr. 
Ellice,  the  member  for  St.  Andrews,  asked  the  government 
what  steps  they  intended  to  take.  He  charged  the  Scotch 
authorities  with  an  almost  total  neglect  of  the  duties  which 
were  incumbent  on  them  under  the  law,  that  their  state- 
ments were  positively  untruths,  and  entirely  deceptive,  year 
after  year,  as  to  the  real  state  of  the  lunatics  in  Scotland. 

"  The  member  for  Aberdeen  characterized  the  Report  of 
Commissioners  as  '  one  of  the  most  horrifying  documents  he 
had  ever  seen.  It  was  a  state  of  things  which  they  could 
not  before  have  believed  to  prevail  in  any  civilized  country, 
much  less  in  this  country,  which  made  peculiar  claims  to 
civilization,  and  boasted  of  its  religious  and  humane  princi- 
ples. .  .  .  Distressing  as  were  the  cases  which  he  had 
mentioned,  there  were  others  ten  times  worse,  remaining 
behind  —  so  horrible,  indeed,  that  he  durst  not  venture  to 
shock  the  feelings  of  the  House  by  relating  them.' 

"  Sir  George  Grey  homceopathically  diluted  the  blame  of 
the  Board  of  Supervision  of  Scotland,  by  showing  that  the 
individual  responsibility  was  infinitesmal,  and  could  not, 
therefore  be  detected  and  punished  in  the  way  it  so  richly 
merited ;  but  promised  to  introduce  a  bill,  calculated  to 
remove  the  defects  in  the  law,  established  by  the  Report. 
.  .  .  The  Lord  Advocate  rejoiced  at  the  publication  of  the 
Report  and  the  statements  of  Mr.  Ellice  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  because  the  state  of  things  has  for  a  long  time 
been  a  disgrace  and  a  scandal  to  Scotland.  '  The  people  of 
that  country,'  he  said,  '  had  known  that  it  was  a  disgrace 
and  a  scandal,  and  he  regretted  to  add  that  it  was  not  the 
first  time  that  statements  had  been  made  similar  to  those  to 
which  they  had  just  listened.  .  .  .  That  noble-minded  lady, 
Miss  Dix,  went  to  Edinburgh  and  visited  the  asylums  at 


254  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Musselburgh.  After  seeing  them,  she  said  there  was  some- 
thing wrong,  and  she  wished  to  be  allowed  to  visit  them  at 
the  dead  of  night,  when  she  would  not  be  expected.  He 
had  felt  a  difficulty  about  giving  a  permission  of  that  kind 
to  a  non-official  person,  and  accordingly  she  applied  to  the 
Home  Secretary.  .  .  .  The  facts  were  now  so  clearly 
proved  that  if  he  proposed  the  very  remedy  which  was  re- 
jected in  1848,  it  would  he  adopted  by  both  Houses  of 
Parliament,  without  any  important  opposition.'  " 

"  On  the  second  reading  [June  9,  1857]  no  serious  oppo- 
sition was  offered  to  the  bill.  Mr.  Cowan,  member  for 
Edinburgh,  said  that  he  had  been  requested  to  present  a 
petition,  signed  by  the  Lord  Provost  and  Magistrates  of 
Edinburgh,  seeking  for  delay,  but  he  did  not  like  to  incur 
that  responsibility,  and  would  therefore  support  the  second 
reading.  .  .  .  Mr.  Hope  Johnstone,  member  for  Dumfries- 
shire, enforced  these  remonstrances  by  stating  that  he  had 
representations  made  to  him  from  every  quarter  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  appointment  of  a  new  board.  Mr.  Drummond 
hereupon  made  an  observation  greatly  to  his  credit,  which 
deserves  to  be  remembered.  He  said  that  the  question  was 
not  so  much  what  would  be  the  most  expensive,  as  what 
would  be  the  most  efficient  machinery.  There  were  plenty 
of  representatives  of  the  rate-payers  in  that  House,  but  no 
representatives  of  the  lunatics  of  Scotland.  They  seemed 
to  have  no  friends  there,  while  really  they  were  the  persons 
who  stood  most  in  need  of  being  represented." 

Through  these  extracts  from  speeches  made  in  Par- 
liament, the  at  last  fully  aroused  spirit  of  that  body 
is  clearly  revealed.  How  changed,  through  the  heroic 
fire  of  a  single  woman,  the  moral  temper,  from  the 
days  of  1848,  when  Lord  Rutherfurd's  Bill  was  help- 
lessly swept  away  before  the  flood  of  remonstrances 
that  poured  in  from  rate-payers  and  interested  parties 
all  over  Scotland !  Now  certain  of  the  Scotch  mem- 


THE  ROYAL    COMMISSION.  255 

bers  did  not  dare  so  much  as  to  present  the  selfish  ob- 
jections of  their  constituents.  The  victory  was  com- 
plete, and  August  25,  1857,  came  the  passage  of  the 
Act  —  20  &  21  Viet.  c.  71  —  through  which  a  new 
epoch  was  inaugurated  in  humane  and  adequate  pro- 
vision for  the  insane,  especially  the  pauper  insane, 
of  Scotland.  This  meant  nothing  less  than  the  foun- 
dation of  new  and  humanely  administered  asylums 
in  various  quarters  of  the  land,  to  the  relief  of  an 
untold  amount  of  human  misery. 

As  already  stated,  some  considerable  time  before 
the  final  passage  of  this  Act,  Miss  Dix  had  returned 
to  the  United  States,  and  was  as  zealously  as  ever  at 
work  in  her  old  field.  None  the  less,  devoted  friends 
abroad  kept  her  apprised  of  the  steady  progress  of 
the  good  cause.  A  few  extracts  from  letters,  of 
widely  differing  dates,  will  throw  farther  local  light 
on  this  memorable  episode  in  a  memorable  career. 

"  EDINBURGH,  June  4,  1857. 

"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  Some  days  ago,  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  writing  to  announce  that  the  Scotch  Lunacy  Report  had 
broken  the  shell  and  seen  the  light.  We  are  quite  sur- 
prised at  the  sensation  the  Report  has  produced.  Through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  the  press  is  ringing 
with  it.  ...  At  first  I  took  what  steps  I  could  to  direct 
public  attention  to  the  result  of  our  labors,  but  soon  my 
only  fear  was  that  the  general  clamor  would  pass  beyond 
bounds.  .  .  .  You  will  see  by  the  proceedings  in  Parlia- 
ment, that  no  time  is  to  be  lost  in  bringing  forward  a  reme- 
dial measure.  Government  is  wise  in  this  respect.  Strike 
while  the  iron  is  hot.  This  is  evidently  their  maxim,  and 
doubtless  if  they  waited  till  next  session  they  would  meet 
with  far  more  opposition.  I  hope  you  noticed  how  cordially 
Sir  George  Grey  acknowledged  in  the  House  of  Commons  the 
obligations  we  are  under  to  you.  What  the  nature  of  the 


256  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

proposed  measure  may  be,  is  not  yet  known,  but  rumor  says 
it  is  to  be  an  extension  of  the  English  Commission  to  Scot- 
land. 

"  With  much  respect, 

"  Very  faithfully  yours, 

"JAMES    COXE." 

*•*  EDINBURGH,  SCOTLAND,  June  20,  1857. 

..."  You  will  have  seen  from  the  English  newspapers 
that  our  Report  has  created  considerable  sensation,  and  that 
the  Lord  Advocate  has  already  introduced  a  legislative 
measure  into  Parliament.  Already,  on  every  side,  is  heard 
the  din  of  preparation  for  resistance.  Town  councils, 
county  meetings,  parochial  boards,  and  the  existing  large 
asylums,  are  banding  together  for  this  object,  all  animated 
with  the  desire  to  avoid  legal  interference.  I  have  thought 
the  public  might  be  made  to  adopt  more  humane  and  less 
selfish  views  by  showing  them  what  you  are  doing  in  Amer- 
ica, and  how  generously  the  Legislatures  come  to  your  aid. 
I  have  therefore  taken  the  liberty  to  send  to  the  newspapers 
an  extract  from  your  letter. 

"  Most  truly  yours, 

"  JAMES  COXE." 

In  a  letter  from  Sir  James  A.  Clark,  Physician  to 
the  Queen,  who  had  attended  Miss  Dix  during  a  se- 
vere inflammatory  attack,  in  London,  occurs  the  fol- 
lowing grateful  assurance :  — 

"  BAGSHOT  PARK,  SURREY,  December  30,  1861. 
"  Before  going  farther  I  will  give  you  a  piece  of  informa- 
tion which  I  feel  sure  will  gratify  you,  as  the   first  move- 
ment in  the  improvement  which  has  been  effected  in  Scot- 
land through  your  exertions.     The  treatment  of  the  pauper 
insane  in  Scotland  is  now  more  carefully  attended  to  than 
in  any  other  part  of  Great  Britain,  I  may  say. 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"J.  A.  CLARK." 


THE  ROYAL   COtfMISSION.  257 

Finally,  from  her  fast  friend,  Dr.  Tuke,  came  the 
ensuing  expression  of  congratulation  :  — 

'•  FALMOUTH,  CORNWALL,  ENGLAND,  May  6,  1865. 
"  I  think  you  might  say  to  the   Scotch,  *  You  are  my  joy 
and  my  crown,'  for  they  have  gone   on  wonderfully  since 
1  The    American    Invader  '   aroused  them  from   their  leth- 
argy. 

"  Sincerely  your  friend, 

"  D.  HACK  TUKE." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   CHANNEL   ISLANDS. 

IN  order  to  complete  the  account  of  the  action  of 
the  Royal  Commission,  extending  as  it  did  through  a 
period  of  several  years,  it  became  necessary,  in  the 
previous  chapter,  to  leave  Miss  Dix  at  the  close  of  her 
personal  share  in  the  work  of  reform  in  Scotland.  A 
severe  inflammatory  attack,  brought  on  by  the  damp 
and  chill  she  had  exposed  herself  to  in  a  hurried  visit 
to  Westminster  Abbey  and  St.  Paul's,  when  already 
overfatigued  by  the  heavy  responsibilities  of  her  work 
in  London,  had  left  her  little  strength  for  the  farther 
probing  of  the  foul  nest  of  evils  she  had  agreed  to 
prosecute  on  her  return  to  Scotland.  Spite  of  all,  she 
persisted  until,  her  report  finally  prepared  for  the  help 
of  the  Commissioners,  she  now  sought  rest  in  the 
home  of  her  friend,  Dr.  Tuke,  in  York,  England. 
Not  for  long,  however.  Circumstances  were  soon  to 
occur  destined  once  again  to  bring  to  her  lips  the  fa- 
miliar refrain, 

"  Rest  is  not  quitting1  the  busy  career." 

The  original  impulse  toward  the  new  project  which 
was  before  long  to  engross  Miss  Dix's  mind  will  be 
found  stated  in  a  letter  addressed  by  her,  May  6, 1855, 
to  her  life-long  friend  and,  at  times,  personal  physician, 
Dr.  H.  A.  Buttolph,  then  Superintendent  of  the  Tren- 
ton Asylum,  New  Jersey.  As  written  to  her  medical 
adviser,  this  letter  contains  a  more  detailed  account  of 


THE  CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  259 

her  physical  disabilities  than,  on  the  matter  of  health, 
was  common  with  one,  who,  in  her  correspondence 
and  intercourse  with  her  friends,  so  generally  acted 
on  the  sun-dial  maxim,  "  Horas  non  numero  nisi  sere- 
nas."  The  letter  soon  goes  on,  however,  to  give  an 
account  of  the  chance  interview  which  first  called  her 
attention  to  the  sad  condition  of  things  existing  in  the 
Channel  Islands ; l  and  is  farther  accompanied  by  a  copy 
of  a  communication  from  a  young  Dutch  alienist,  Dr. 
Van  Leuveri^  then  temporarily  resident  on  the  Island 
of  Jersey.  With  these  preliminary  explanations,  the 

letters  will  tell  their  own  story. 

"  YORK,  May  16, 1855. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  You  will  recollect  all  the  symp- 
toms for  which  you  have  treated  me  when  I  have  from  time 
to  time  been  your  guest.  These  have  never  left  me  at  any 
time,  and,  though  not  ill  always,  I  have  at  no  time  felt  well 
enough  to  justify  uncertain  journeys  on  the  Continent. 
Counting  time  since  I  left  the  steamer,  I  find  that  rather 
more  than  half  the  period  I  have  been  either  really  too  ill, 
or  too  languid,  to  do  anything.  The  irritation  of  the  mu- 
cous membrane  of  the  stomach  has  of  late  affected  me  more 
seriously,  and  the  inaction  of  the  heart  has  left  me  fee- 
ble. .  .  . 

"  In  Scotland,  I  felt  myself  giving  out,  but  came  forward 
to  York  intending  to  rest  a  day,  and  then  see  the  fourteen 
public  and  private  institutions  for  the  insane  in  this  immedi- 
ate vicinity.  I  commenced,  but  gave  out,  and  am  here  in  a 
cheerful,  quiet  apartment.  Next  to  mine,  retiring  from  the 
labors  of  an  active  life  spent  in  the  cause  of  the  insane,  lies 
helpless  the  good  Samuel  Tuke,  the  master  of  this  house. 
The  Angel  of  Death  stands  at  the  door  watching,  but  still 
the  last  great  blessing  is  deferred,  the  entrance  into  the  im- 

1  A  number  of  islands  in  the  British  Channel,  politically  attached 
to  Great  Britain,  but  connected  with  France  by  geographical  position, 
the  largest  of  which  are  Jersey,  Guernsey,  and  Alderney. 


260  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

mortal  life  where  no  clouds  obscure  the  thought,  nor  hinder 
the  spirit's  growth. 

"  Let  me  give  you  an  instance  of  what,  in  my  case,  I  call 
leads  of  Providence.  So  I  wait  a  little  now  till  returning 
strength  comes  to  assist  the  weakened  instrument  of  the 
Divine  will.  This  I  say  most  reverently  and  with  full  un- 
derstanding of  what  I  have  in  view. 

"  When  in  Edinburgh  last  winter,  I  accidentally,  as  it 
might  be  said,  called  in  at  Dr.  Simpson's.  In  the  drawing- 
room  was  a  lady  from  the  south  of  England,  who,  hearing  my 
name,  came  immediately  forward,  and  asked  if  I  had  ever 
visited  the  islands  of  Jersey  and  Guernsey  in  the  British 
Channel.  I  replied  in  the  negative,  when  she  and  her  uncle 
proceeded  to  give  me  an  account  of  the  great  abuses  to  which 
the  insane  were  there  subject,  and  concluded  by  begging 
that  I  would  go  there.  I  could  not  go  then,  but  I  laid  these 
things  up  in  my  mind. 

"  Well,  a  few  days  after  I  was  here.  Dr.  Tuke  entered 
my  room  with  some  pamphlets,  asked  me  if  I  read  French, 
and  said,  '  Here  is  an  interesting  report  from  Dr.  Van  Leu- 
ven,  of  Jersey/  I  read  it  during  the  day,  and  at  the  even- 
ing visit  said  to  the  doctor,  '  I  see  a  movement  is  made  in 
Jersey;  if  it  has  led  to  no  result  beside  employing  Dr.  Van 
Leuven  to  visit  and  report  on  hospitals  abroad,  my  going  to 
Jersey  would  be  quite  a  work  of  supererogation,  for  which  I 
have,  I  assure  you,  no  inclination.  Do  write  to  the  doctor 
for  information.'  This  was  done  at  once.  The  return  post 
brought  the  following  answer,  and  determined  my  duty  and 
next  work,  —  as  soon  as  I  am  well  enough.  Dr.  Van  Leu- 
ven's  letter  is  as  follows  :  — 

"'ISLAND  OF  JERSEY. 

"  *  MY  DEAR  TUKE,  —  I  have  your  welcome  letter  and 
hasten  to  answer  you  about  Miss  Dix's  visit.  Strange  to  say 
it  was  only  last  Saturday,  oth  of  May,  three  days  ago,  that 
I  had  a  proposal  from  Mr.  Isaac  Pothecary,  of  Grove  Place 
near  Southampton  (well  known  for  its  inhuman  treatment 


THE   CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  261 

and  dealings  in  lunatics,  see  reports  of  the  Commissioners), 
asking  if  I  would  give  him  some  information  and  assistance 
in  establishing  a  private  asylum  for  the  insane  in  Jersey,  — 
he  could  not  go  on  in  England  since  the  Commissioners  were 
so  severe,  the  laws  so  stringent,  and  the  formalities  for  the 
reception  of  patients  so  embarrassing  —  "  to  escape  or  avoid 
all  this  nonsense  in  England,  he  intended  to  transport  not 
less  than  twenty  private  patients  (of  whom  some  paid  £500 
and  more  per  annum)  to  Jersey,  where  even  no  license  is 
required,"  and  "he  had  come  here  to  look  out  for  two  or 
more  fit  places  for  their  reception."  "  I  would  then,"  so  he 
writes,  "  have  you  visit  my  asylums  twice  a  week,  and  be 
well  paid." 

"  '  I  could  not  help,  my  dear  Tuke,  thinking  of  cattle  and 
horses  and  slave-dealers,  and  of  York  asylums  in  1816,  and 
of  Bethlem  Hospital  in  1852  !  What  had  I  to  do  ?  Mr. 
Pothecary  was  decided  about  coming  over  with  the  poor 
patients  next  week.  I  could  not  check  him.  Ought  I  to 
withhold  my  assistance  ?  Well,  I  thought,  I  do  not  assist 
the  mercenary  interests  of  Mr.  Pothecary,  but  I  may  assist 
his  unhappy  patients.  If  I  withdraw  entirely,  I  leave  the 
poor  sufferers  at  the  mercy  of  their  owner,  and  of  some  of 
the  many  doctors  in  Jersey,  who  do  everything  for  money. 

"  *  So  the  matter  stands  in  an  island  whose  government 
does  not  care  one  bit  for  its  own  pauper  insane,  and  much 
less  for  those  imported  from  England.  Could  Miss  Dix 
persuade  the  English  Government  to  admit  no  asylums  in 
Jersey,  Guernsey,  or  Wright,  but  under  the  same  laws  as 
exist  in  England?  This  would  be  the  proper  thing.  If 
Miss  Dix  will  come  to  Jersey,  I  will  give  her  a  hearty  wel- 
come, that  she  may  counterbalance  the  odious  Insanity 
Trade  now  begun.  Please  communicate  to  Miss  Dix  my 
most  respectful  regards.  And  let  me  hear  soon. 

"  '  Yours  very  truly,  D.  H.  VAN  LEUVEN.' 

"  There,  my  Friend,  this  must  help  me  get  well  soon  ! 
"  Adieu.     Yours  truly,  D.  L.  D." 


262  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

Eminently  characteristic  of  Miss  Dix,  this  final  ex- 
clamation, "  There,  my  Friend,  this  must  help  me  get 
well  soon  !  "  In  her  own  entirely  rational  way,  she 
was  thirty-five  years  ago  as  thorough  a  believer  in  the 
"  Mind  Cure  "  as  are  to-day  thousands  in  their  puer- 
ile and  superstitious  way,  that  is,  her  faith  in  the  ren- 
ovating power  over  bodily  infirmity  of  a  great  pur- 
pose, or  a  generous  affection,  was  invincible.  The  idea, 
however,  that  should  she  chance  to  break  a  leg  or  rup- 
ture an  artery,  all  that  was  needful  was  firmly  to  be- 
lieve in  a  new  sound  leg,  in  order,  forthwith,  to  walk 
off  safely  on  it,  or  in  a  new  circulatory  system,  in  or- 
der to  dispense  with  the  degrading  material  assistance 
of  a  tourniquet,  —  this  idea,  reserved  for  certain  of  her 
later  more  enlightened  American  sisters,  —  was  one 
which  never  crossed  her  imperfectly  illuminated  mind. 

Indeed,  this  whole  letter  to  Dr.  Buttolph,  with  its  en- 
closures, furnishes  a  striking  example  of  unconscious 
self-revelation  of  character.  It  begins,  as  addressed 
to  a  physician,  with  the  pains  and  infirmities  of  the 
poor  body,  the  sole  mortal  instrument  at  the  disposal 
of  a  most  ardent  mind.  The  chronic  symptoms,  enr 
feebled  action  of  the  heart,  irritability  of  the  mucous 
lining,  involving  both  the  digestive  organs  and  the 
lungs,  and  others  which  have  not  been  enumerated, 
are  clearly  and  distinctly  stated.  But  soon  heart  and 
soul  assert  their  ascendancy.  A  new  inspiring  proj- 
ect has  risen  before  her  mind.  Not  an  allusion  to 
the  wonderful  success  of  the  recent  campaign  in  Scot- 
land. That  work  is  over  and  done.  Now  for  the 
next  duty  the  Lord  would  summon  her  to !  "  Let 
me  give  you  an  instance  of  what,  in  my  case,  I  call 
leads  of  Providence  /  "  To  her,  there  is  no  chance 
in  the  world.  No  one  need  seek  after  his  way  in  life. 


THE   CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  263 

It  is  revealed  to  him,  if  lie  have  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to 
hear,  in  the  everyday  events  of  life.  God  is  in  them, 
God  speaks  through  them.  The  whole  universe  is  the 
immediate  call  of  God,  requiring  no  other  answer  but 
a  swift  and  obedient  "  Here  am  I,  send  me  !  "  "  The 
return  post  determined  my  duty  and  next  work!  " 

One  all-important  link  in  the  chain  of  circumstances 
through  which,  as  Miss  Dix  devoutly  believed,  God 
bound  every  willing  soul  to  its  appointed  task,  had, 
in  this  instance,  been  young  Dr.  Van  Leuven,  to 
whom  allusion  has  several  times  been  made.  Among 
the  French  papers  given  her  to  read  by  Dr.  Tuke 
was  a  series  of  letters  written  by  this  philanthropic 
Hollander,  in  which  he  had  tried  to  rouse  public  sen- 
timent in  Jersey,  in  behalf  of  the  wretched  and  neg- 
lected insane.  An  extract  will  show  the  strength  and 
pathos  with  which  he  wrote,  though  it  suffers  through 
its  translation  from  French  into  English  :  — 

u  Eight  days  after  the  appearance  of  my  third  article  in 
this  newspaper  (June  27,  1853),  a  respectable  Jersey 
farmer  came  to  talk  with  me.  Through  his  simplicity,  the 
stamp  of  truth,  his  discourse  so  interested  me  that  I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  give  it  here,  almost  in  his  own  words. 

"  '  Sir,'  he  said,  '  I  am  only  a  poor  Jersey  farmer.  For- 
merly, I  knew  better  days,  but  I  have  been  reduced  these 
many  years  by  an  unhappy  insane  son.  Reading  your  arti- 
cles in  the  "  Chronique,"  I  wanted  to  express  my  gratitude 
for  what  you  have  written  in  behalf  of  the  insane  poor,  and 
to  say,  God  bless  your  efforts  ! ' 

"  I  then  asked  him  to  tell  me  a  little  about  his  troubles. 

"  *  Yes,  sir,'  continued  the  good  man,  *  I  have  suffered 
greatly  from  this  affliction  which,  as  you  say,  has  plunged 
so  many  families  in  misery.  Through  an  epidemic  of  fever, 
which  raged  here  sixteen  years  ago,  my  son  became  insane. 
Since  that  time  my  annual  trips  to  England  for  the  sale  of 


264  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Jersey  cows  have  been  suspended.  I  was  obliged  to  stay 
at  home  to  watch  over  my  son,  for  there  was  no  one  else  to 
take  proper  care  of  him  ;  my  wife  and  the  other  children 
were  too  exhausted,  or  had  suffered  too  much  while  I  was 
away ;  our  neighbors  were  afraid  of  him.  How  many  times 
has  he  escaped  from  the  house  when  I  had  to  be  elsewhere  ; 
for  example,  taking  part  in  the  militia  drill  of  my  parish ! 
How  many  whole  nights  have  I  spent  searching  for  him ! 
Often  I  would  find  him  asleep,  from  weariness,  on  danger- 
ous cliffs,  and  chilled  with  frost !  In  thus  devoting  myself 
to  my  unhappy  son,  I  was  obliged  to  neglect  my  trade  in 
Jersey  cows,  and  met  severe  losses.  His  image  followed  me 
everywhere.  Before  long  he  became  so  violent  that  I  was 
obliged  to  bind  him.  I  went  to  the  General  Hospital  to  see 
about  placing  him  there,  but  I  found  the  insane  quarters 
utterly  unfit  for  human  beings,  least  of  all  for  those  insane. 
Finally,  I  was  forced  to  resort  to  iron  chains  :  yes,  sir,  I  had 
to  chain  up  my  own  son  !  My  heart  was  broken  under  such 
misery ! ' 

"  Poor  Jersey  father,  who  have  had  yourself  to  chain 
your  own  child !  How  bitter  will  this  memory  be  when  one 
day  you  will  see  in  Jersey  a  special  asylum  for  the  insane, 
where,  as  in  the  English  asylums,  there  will  be  no  more 
frightful  cells,  nor  iron  bars,  nor  any  shapes  of  mechanical 
constraint !  Such  an  asylum  in  this  island,  and  your  son 
could  have  been  saved,  and  you  need  never  to  have  been 
reduced  to  this  poverty  !  " 

Still  farther  information  from  Dr.  Van  Leuven 
arrived  later,  to  which  allusion  is  made  in  the  follow- 
ing letter  from  Dr.  Tuke,  written  to  Miss  Dix  when 
she  was  somewhere  away  from  his  home  :  — 

"  ST.  LAWRENCE  PARISH,  June  23,  1855. 

"  I  must  talk  to  you  about  our  excellent  Jersey  friend  and 
his  admirable  letter  of  June  llth.  There  does  indeed  seem 
to  be  the  most  remarkable  opening,  and  your  power  of  doing 


THE    CHANNEL   ISLANDS.  265 

good  in  the  matter  appears  clearly  established,  whether  or 
not  you  go  in  person  to  the  island.  Would  it  not  be  best 
to  send  the  doctor's  letter  to  Lord  Shaftesbury  at  once,  for 
perusal  ?  Its  natural  and  telling  style  would,  I  think,  pro- 
duce more  effect  upon  him  than  any  other  agency.  ...  As 
I  write,  my  conscience,  however,  keeps  intruding  with  '  But 
remember  Miss  Dix's  strength  ! ' ' 

Spite  of  the  saving  clause  at  the  end,  it  would  look 
as  though  this  letter  were  a  little  open  to  the  construc- 
tion of  aiding  and  abetting  an  already  too  incorrigible 
offender ;  particularly  as  only  a  few  days  before  its 
author  had  written  Miss  Dix :  "  Now  a  word  about 
your  symptoms.  I  don't  like  them.  They  certainly 
indicate  great  debility  of  the  heart  (not  your  moral 
organ  !),  and  it  behooves  you  to  draw  from  them  the 
lesson  of  rest  from  mental  excitement."  Still,  who 
after  seeing  any  feat  superbly  executed,  whether  by 
singer,  orator,  or  reformer,  can  refrain  from  an  en- 
thusiastic encore  !  Indeed,  the  worst  demoralization 
wrought  by  military  and  naval  reviews  is  said  to  lie 
in  the  fact  that  the  sight  of  such  splendidly  equipped 
armaments  is  sure  to  inspire  the  minds  of  the  specta- 
tors with  the  longing  to  see  them  quit  holiday  maneu- 
vering and  close  in  dead-in-earnest  fight. 

Be  all  this  as  it  may,  it  is  clear  that,  for  now  six  or 
eight  weeks,  Miss  Dix's  mind  was  steadily  concentra- 
ting on  a  visit  in  person  to  the  Channel  Islands,  and 
that  she  was  only  waiting  strength  for  the  undertak- 
ing. How  exuberant  were  the  hopes  and  resolves 
that  filled  her,  finds  eloquent  expression  in  a  letter  to 
her  friend,  Miss  Heath :  — 

"  YORK,  EAST  RIDING,  ENGLAND,  June  1, 1855. 
"  MY  DEAR  ANNIE,  - —  It  is  four  weeks  now  that  I  have 
been  quite  unable  to  be  out  of  the  house,  till  a  few  days  this 


266  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.   DIX. 

week  I  have  gone  into  the  garden  in  Lindley  Murray's 
chair,  —  Lindley  Murray  of  Grammar  and  our  child-time 
tearful  memories.  Mr.  Tuke  was  one  of  Mr.  Murray's 
executors,  and  here  I  see  many  relics,  the  family  Bible,  the 
garden  dial,  and  the  Bath  chair. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  I  am  now,  though  not  strong  for  much 
exertion,  able  to  go  to  Green  Bank,  where  I  am  engaged  to 
pass  with  my  dear  friends  several  weeks,  until  I  am  able  to 
go  to  the  Channel  Islands  to  fulfill  a  duty  lately  made  clear 
to  me,  of  helping  out  of  dismal  dark  dungeons  those  whose 
only  crime  is  that  they  are  sick  —  insane,  —  and  so,  feared 
and  tantalized  till  they  are  really  what  the  sane  would  call 
them,  mad  men  and  mad  women,  capable  of  any  outbreak. 
I  shall  see  their  chains  off.  I  shall  take  them  into  the  green 
fields,  and  show  them  the  lovely  little  flowers  and  the  blue 
sky,  and  they  shall  play  with  the  lambs  and  listen  to  the 
song  of  the  birds,  '  and  a  little  child  shall  lead  them.'  This 
is  no  romance;  this  all  will  be,  if  I  get  to  the  Channel 
Islands,  Jersey  and  Guernsey,  with  God's  blessing. 

"  I  was  at  a  very  good  hotel,  but  my  friends,  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Tuke,  insisted  on  my  removal  to  their  nice  comfortable 
home,  where  I  am  tended  as  carefully  and  tenderly  as  if  I 
were  a  sister.  I  have  been  very  feeble,  but  not  helpless, 
and  never  cheerless.  ...  It  is  now  beginning  to  dawn  on 
me  that  I  may  not  go  to  the  United  States  this  autumn.  I 
do  not  see  any  great  use  in  getting  back  just  as  the  cold 
weather  advances,  unless  there  is  a  call  to  labor.  If  so,  I 
dare  say  the  strength  would  come  for  the  '  daily  task,'  — 
4  daily  the  manna  fell  from  heaven.' 

"  I  should  like  one  of  your  sweet  nice  letters  now  and 
then.  Cannot  you  give  me  so  much  pleasure  ?  " 

To  Miss  Dix's  swift  and  decisive  mind,  one  thing 
was  clear  from  Dr.  Van  Leu ven's  letters,  namely,  that 
the  hue  and  cry  of  late  raised  in  England  and  Scot- 
land over  miscreants  carrying  on  private  madhouses 
for  mercenary  ends,  and  with  nefarious  and  criminal 


THE   CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  207 

intent,  had  thoroughly  frightened  certain  of  them. 
The  country  was  fast  getting  too  hot  to  hold  them. 
So  far,  so  good !  "  Rats  leave  a  falling  house." 
Yes,  but  they  go  elsewhere  to  burrow,  nest,  and  defile. 
Thither,  likewise,  must  they  be  followed  up,  repois- 
oned,  and  driven  out  of  their  holes.  It  was  plain 
enough  what  was  in  the  wind.  Mr.  Pothecary  would 
quietly  transport  his  chain-gang  to  the  seclusion  of 
the  Island  of  Jersey,  where,  happily,  busy-body  phi- 
lanthropists did  not  intrude  to  disturb  the  reposeful 
scene.  There  would  he  have  his  own  paid  doctor,  to 
wink  at  any  little  departures  from  the  Decalogue.  It 
scarcely  needs  to  be  added  that  Miss  Dix  laid  Mr. 
Pothecary  up  in  her  mind.  Meanwhile,  her  grand 
aim  was  to  seek  to  get  measures  taken,  through  which 
the  same  aegis  of  government  protection  should  be 
extended  over  all,  wherever  they  might  be  in  the 
United  Kingdom. 

Not  until  near  the  middle  of  July  was  Miss  Dix 
well  enough  to  visit  in  person  the  Island  of  Jersey. 
This  time  she  went,  not  as  she  had  entered  Scotland, 
a  single-handed  woman  dependent  upon  her  own  re- 
sources of  will  and  courage,  but  as  one  who  now  had 
the  ear  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  and  the  Home  Secre- 
tary, as  well  as  the  prestige  of  parliamentary  success. 
That  she  acted  with  her  usual  dispatch,  is  evident 
from  a  hasty  summary  of  her  course  of  action,  written 
from  Jersey  to  her  friend,  Dr.  Buttolph,  as  well  as 
from  a  few  flying  notes  to  other  friends.  The  letter 
to  Dr.  Buttolph  runs  thus  :  — 

"  8  QUEEN'S  TERRACE,  ST.  HELUERS, 
ISLAND  OF  JERSEY,  July  15,  1855. 

"MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  now  proceed  to  give  you  a 
running  narrative  of  my  affairs  here.  Left  London,  Friday, 


268  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

8|  P.  M.  .  .  .  detained  off  Guernsey  by  fogs,  just  escaped 
the  sunken  rocks,  and  landed  four  and  a  half  hours  late  at 
the  Jersey  pier,  on  Saturday,  5  P.  M. 

"  Sunday,  at  home  all  day.  Monday,  9  A.  M.,  took  a 
carriage  and  drove  with  Dr.  Van  Leuven  to  the  hospital  — 
found  the  insane  in  a  horrid  state,  naked,  filthy,  and  at- 
tended by  persons  of  ill  character  committed  to  this  estab- 
lishment for  vice  too  gross  to  admit  of  their  being  at  large. 
.  .  .  After  faithful  inspection  of  the  forty  insane  in  the 
cells  and  yards,  I  drove  with  my  letter  of  introduction  to 
Government  House ;  the  Governor  not  at  home.  I  left  a 
note,  previously  prepared,  soliciting  an  interview  at  his  Ex- 
cellency's convenience,  which  I  left  with  Sir  George  Grey's 
letter,  and  proceeded  to  General  Teazel's,  they  also  out. 
Returned  to  dinner  at  Madam  R.'s.  At  3  o'clock,  drove  to 
look  at  a  site  for  the  hospital,  les  Moraines,  the  escheated 
property  of  an  insane  woman  who  died  without  heirs,  from 
which  the  Crown  derives  a  handsome  annual  rent.  I  ap- 
proved it  for  our  use,  if  it  could  be  had  a  free  gift.  We  then 
proceeded  to  visit  several  insane  persons  in  private  families, 
—  a  sad,  very  sad  scene.  During  absence,  the  Governor  and 
Mrs.  Love  had  called,  also  General  and  Mrs.  Touzel  twice, 
the  latter  leaving  invitation  for  breakfast  on  Wednesday, 
and  the  Governor  for  dinner  on  same  day. 

"  Went  early  Wednesday  to  General  Touzel's,  had  a  long 
conversation  wholly  on  business  affairs.  At  10  A.  M.  Gen- 
eral T.  went  with  me  to  see  the.  Governor.  First  I  pre- 
sented and  represented  Mr.  Pothecary.  The  Governor  re- 
ceived my  evidence  in  the  case,  summoned  the  Attorney 
General,  .  .  .  thanked  me  for  the  information,  and  would 
resume  the  subject.  Next  we  took  up  the  Jersey  Hospital 
question.  I  was  promised  all  government  support,  but  had 
to  fight  my  way  with  three  dozen  members  of  the  States, 
viz.,  twelve  rectors,  twelve  yeomen,  twelve  chief-constables 
or  managers  of  the  Parishes.  The  Attorney  General  in- 
vites me  to  inspect  with  him  Mr.  Pothecary 's  residence, 


THE    CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  269 

etc.  ...  I  shall  tell  you  some  time  about  this  visit.     I  got 
some  useful  information. 

"  Thursday,  drove  into  the  country,  still  surveying  farms 
and  seeing  the  scattered  insane.  In  the  evening  some  mem- 
bers of  the  committees  of  the  States  called.  .  .  .  Friday, 
A.  M.,  other  members  called,  and  settled  that  the  full  Board 
of  fifteen  should  be  summoned  to  an  extra  meeting,  if  I 
would  attend.  ...  I  consented  to  remain  till  the  full  Board 
reported,  and  not  present  the  subject  to  the  Government  at 
Home,  if  they  would  do  the  work  without.  To-morrow  I 
go  with  General  Touzel  to  the  Treasurer  of  the  States  at 
9  A.  M.,  at  10 £  meet  the  Committee  of  Fifteen,  .  .  .  then 
go  to  Government  House  and  report  progress,  and  so  I  will 
do  to  you  when  I  know  what  is  the  result. 
"  Yours  cordially, 

"D.  L.  Dix." 

There  were  certain  features  of  partial  independence 
in  the  relation  borne  to  the  General  Government  of 
the  United  Kingdom  by  the  local  authorities  of  the 
Channel  Islands,  which  made  these  authorities  pe- 
culiarly anxious  to  keep  matters  in  their  own  hands. 
Of  this  fear,  on  their  part,  of  being  reported  for  any 
criminal  neglect,  and  so,  perhaps,  having  their  powers 
abridged,  Miss  Dix  skillfully  availed  herself.  So  long 
as  they  would  agree  to  a  thorough  reformation  of  a 
shameful  condition  of  things,  it  was,  as  far  as  she 
was  concerned,  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  by 
what  machinery  it  was  done.  In  that  case,  she  would 
refrain  from  appealing  to  Parliament.  But  either 
pledge  themselves  to  do  this  work  themselves,  or  be 
reported,  was  the  inexorable  alternative  she  would 
consent  to  offer.  Meanwhile,  that  she  had  not  for- 
gotten one  little  personal  matter  comes  out  emphat- 
ically in  a  hurried  line,  addressed  to  Mrs.  Rathbone, 
of  Liverpool. 


270  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"  8  QUEEN'S  TERRACE,  ST.  HELLIERS,  July,  1855. 
"  To-day  I  can  only  be  brief.  I  am  very  much  occupied. 
First,  I  have  gotten  Mr.  Pothecary  into  the  custody  of  the 
High  Constable  of  Jersey,  by  order  of  the  Governor  and 
counsel  of  the  Attorney  General.  So  that  business  is  well 
settled,  and  the  laws  will  protect  the  patients  he  has  so 
boldly  transported.  I  have  seen  them.  Next,  I  have  got  a 
farm  for  the  hospital  that  I  hope  shall  be,  and  the  hospital 
I  will  call  La  Maison  de  1'Esperance.  I  shall  stay  in  Jer- 
sey so  long  as  will  settle  the  question  of  hospital  or  no  hos- 
pital." 

One  other  letter  of  Miss  Dix  to  Dr.  Buttolph,  is  all 
that  remains  of  her  correspondence  from  Jersey.  It 
is  full  of  hope  at  what  she  feels  will  be  the  outcome 
of  her  visit :  — 

"  ISLAND  OF  JERSEY,  July  18,  1855. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  At  a  full  committee  of  sixteen 
gentlemen  yesterday,  the  resolution  was  passed  unanimously 
to  build  a  hospital  here  for  the  insane,  with  the  least  possi- 
ble delay.  To-morrow,  I  accompany  a  sub-committee  to 
search  out  a  fit  site  and  farm,  and  a  structure  for  100  pa- 
tients is  to  be  commenced  upon  a  plan  capable  of  extension 
at  need.  ...  I  want  hints,  plans,  and  specifications  from 
you,  without  cost.  Let  me  hear  by  return  steamer.  I 
must  push  these  people,  or  the  building  will  not  be  finished 
till  next  century.  ...  I  expect  to  go  to  Guernsey  on  Fri- 
day, and  to  England  on  Monday  next." 

A  few  days  more  and  Miss  Dix  is  back  again  in 
England,  with  her  friends  at  Greenbank,  whence  she 
writes  to  Miss  Heath :  — 

"  Safely  arrived  in  the  dear  old  home.  I  rest  and  am 
quiet  to  my  heart's  content.  Friends  are  all  well  and  in 
prosperity,  and  so  I  find  them  drawing  toward  the  latter 
days  in  peace,  doing  good  to  all  as  they  have  opportunity. 
Gough,  the  temperance  lecturer,  has  made  a  great  impres- 


THE   CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  271 

sion  here,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  the  impulse  given  to  that 
cause  is  quickened  and  quickening.  Barnum's  book  is  vile. 
It  has  done  more  to  dishonor  Americans  and  the  American 
character  here  than  you  would  believe  possible." 

While  thus  quietly  resting  at  Greenbank,  Dr.  Tuke 
writes  to  congratulate  her  on  the  recent  work  in  Jer- 
sey :  — 

"  I  think  you  have  good  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
results  already  apparent,  and,  with  Dr.  Van  Leuven  left  on 
the  spot,  there  is  probably  less  danger  of  the  thing  being 
lost  sight  of.  There  will  be  nothing  more  needed,  I  believe, 
but  keeping  up  a  brisk  fire." 

In  concluding  the  account  of  this  Island  of  Jersey 
episode  in  Miss  Dix's  career,  it  is  here  the  fitting 
place  to  state  that  her  own  words,  "  I  must  push  these 
people,  or  the  building  will  not  be  finished  till  the  next 
century,"  proved  partially  prophetic.  But  only  par- 
tially. The  "  next  century  "  still  lags  ten  years  be- 
hind, and  these  words  were  written  thirty-five  years 
ago.  Still  it  was  not  till  1868,  nearly  thirteen  years 
after  her  bringing  the  Jersey  Islanders  to  a  sense  of 
their  duty,  that  a  large  public  asylum  was  finally  com- 
pleted for  the  humane  and  scientific  treatment  of  the 
insane. 

The  nature  and  degree  of  the  impression  produced 
on  the  minds  of  many  of  Miss  Dix's  truest  friends  at 
this  triumphant  period  of  her  life  can  hardly  be  better 
expressed  than  in  the  warning  letter  written  her  just 
before  her  departure  for  Jersey  by  her  aged  friend, 
William  Rathbone,  of  Liverpool.  It  will  be  recalled 
by  the  reader  that  it  was  into  Mr.  Rathbone's  home 
that  she  had  been  taken  on  her  first  visit  to  England 
in  1837,  then  apparently  marked  for  early  death  by 


272  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

consumption.  The  last  thing  that  could  have  been 
prophesied  of  her  at  that  time  was  the  extraordinary 
career  that  really  lay  before  her.  Indeed,  to  quote  the 
recollection  of  one  of  the  sons  of  the  family,  written 
just  after  Miss  Dix's  death,  in  1887,  to  Dr.  John  W. 
Ward,  of  Trenton,  N  J. :  "  She  was  at  this  period  an 
invalid,  a  very  gentle  and  poetical  and  sentimental 
young  lady,  and,  in  the  then  state  of  her  health,  with- 
out any  appearance  of  mental  energy  or  great  power 
of  character."  Through  all  the  succeeding  years  of 
her  labors  in  the  United  States,  her  footsteps  had 
been  followed  with  unfailing  interest  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Eathbone,  and  still  they  were  living  to  witness  the 
wonders  she  had  accomplished  in  Scotland.  Mr. 
Rathbone's  letter  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  GREENBACK,  Sunday,  July  8,  1855. 

"MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Not  being  inclined  to  sleep,  I 
have  thought  that  a  quiet  hour  before  breakfast  could  not 
be  better  employed  than  in  saying,  God  bless  my  valued 
and  loved  friend,  and  speed  her  successfully  in  her  progress, 
—  so  far  as  is  consistent  with  the  scheme  of  His  inscrutable, 
yet  ever  beneficent,  Providence  !  He  has  tried  you  in  the 
success  of  what  you  have  undertaken  beyond  what  I  have 
ever  known,  or,  as  far  as  my  recollection  serves  me,  have 
read  of  any  other  person,  male  or  female  —  far  beyond  that 
of  Howard,  Father  Mathew,  Mrs.  Chisholm,  or  Mrs.  Fry. 
I  speak  now  of  the  entirety  of  the  success  as  much  as  of 
the  extent,  and  it  has  not  turned  your  head  or,  as  I  believe, 
led  you  to  forget  the  source  from  which  your  strength  has 
been  derived.  In  the  most  tender  love,  therefore,  to  a  faith- 
ful and  self-sacrificing  minister  to  His  designs,  He  may  fit 
the  burden  to  the  strength,  and  not  try  you  too  far  by  al- 
lowing you  to  carry  the  World  before  you.  That  your  head 
has  not  already  been,  as  we  say,  turned  by  the  magnitude 
and  vast  extent  of  your  success,  is,  as  much  as  the  many 


THE  CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  273 

other  parts  of  your  character,  the  subject  of  my  respectful 
admiration.  These  thoughts  have  been  suggested  by  the 
check  so  far  you  have  met  in  your  efforts  to  supply  the 
wants  of  the  insane  in  Newfoundland.1  .  .  . 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"W.  RATHBONE." 

That  Miss  Dix's  head  was  not  fatally  turned  by  the 
unexampled  series  of  triumphs  of  the  past  fifteen 
years,  was  signal  proof  that  her  head  was  at  once  very 
strong  and  very  well  balanced.  The  testimonials  so 
profusely  showered  on  her  had  been  the  enthusiastic 
encomiums  of  great  public  bodies,  —  of  twenty  State 
legislatures,  of  the  Federal  Congress  of  the  United 
States,  and  finally  of  the  British  Parliament.  Self- 
reliance,  under  such  unusual  temptations,  might  read- 
ily enough  leap  all  barriers  and  pass  over  into  arro- 
gant assumption  ;  the  sense  of  power  might  easily 
become  inflamed  into  a  dominating  passion  for  the 
exercise  of  power ;  the  sweetness  of  praise  might  de- 
generate into  making  the  pursuit  of  praise  the  end  of 
life. 

Constitutionally  ambitious  of  distinction,  as  is  in- 
stinctive with  such  commanding  personalities,  what 
saved  her  from  such  a  fate  was  the  intensity  of  her 
commiseration  with  suffering  and  the  fervor  of  her 
religious  faith.  Point  out  to  her  a  new  field  of  labor, 
in  which  she  could  hope  to  alleviate  the  miseries  of 
her  fellow-creatures,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  eager 
to  turn  her  back  on  every  remembrance  of  past  achieve- 
ment, and  plunge  anew  into  obscurity  and  a  life  of 
lonely  toil  and  pain.  Then  as  to  the  essence  of  her 

1  The  Asylum  at  St.  John's,  Newfoundland,  the  long  delays  attend- 
ant on  the  foundation  of  which  had  been  to  Miss  Dix  a  source  of  con- 
stant anxiety  and  disappointment. 


274  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

religious  faith,  and  what  it  taught  her.  She  was  a 
perfectly  clear-headed  woman,  not  subject  to  illusions. 
She  knew,  as  simple  fact  of  nature,  that  she  "  differed 
from  others."  She  knew  that  she  could  do  what  not 
one  in  a  million  could  do.  How  could  she  help  know- 
ing it?  It  was  so.  All  this,  her  past  career  had 
made  matter  of  daily  demonstration  ;  and  she,  more- 
over, self-respectfully  enjoyed  the  tribute  of  compe- 
tent minds  to  the  range  and  value  of  her  work. 

Only  passingly,  however,  did  she  allow  these 
thoughts  to  engross  her.  The  moment  gaping  compa- 
nies sought  to  lionize  her,  she  flung  the  attempt  off  as 
offensive  insult.  Habitually  there  was  a  deeper  depth 
in  her  being,  retiring  into  the  sanctuary  of  which,  she 
communed  with  the  momentous  question  of  St.  Paul : 
"  Who  maketh  thee  to  differ  from  another,  and  what 
hast  thou  that  thou  hast  not  received  ?  Now,  if  thou 
didst  receive  it,  why  dost  thou  glory  as  if  thou  hadst 
not  received  it."  This  was  to  her  the  divine  voice 
"  casting  down  imaginations  and  every  vain  thought 
that  exalteth  itself  against  the  knowledge  of  God." 
Downright  before  man,  nay,  often  terrible  to  him, 
when  she  found  him  the  callous  oppressor  of  the  help- 
less, she  was,  before  God,  lowly  and  self-abnegating, 
an  unprofitable  servant.  Then,  once  again,  some  cry 
of  distress  would  fall  upon  her  ear,  and,  in  an  instant, 
"forgetting  the  things  that  were  behind,  she  was  press- 
ing toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  call- 
ing "  embodied  to  her  in  the  word  :  "  Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  me !  " 

Quite  impossible  is  it,  however,  for  any  one  who 
sanely  estimates  the  frailty  of  human  nature  at  its 
best,  to  read  the  private  letters  and  public  resolutions 


THE   CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  275 

which,  at  this  period,  were  showered  on  Miss  Dix, 
without  tremblingly  recurring  to  the  words  of  warning 
from  her  aged  friend,  William  Rathbone  :  u  God  has 
tried  you  in  the  success  of  what  you  have  undertaken 
beyond  what  I  have  ever  known,  or,  as  far  as  my  rec- 
ollection serves  me,  have  read  of  any  other  person, 
male  or  female."  It  is  well,  therefore,  to  note  from 
how  high  and  varied  quarters  these  seductive  "trials" 
came.  Thus  only  can  a  due  conception  be  formed  of 
how  much  she  was  really  subjected  to  in  that  most 
subtle  and  dangerous  of  all  forms  of  temptation,  the 
praise  of  man. 

First,  she  had  touched  the  spring  of  patriotic  pride 
in  her  own  countrymen  and  countrywomen,  then 
abroad  ;  how  intensely,  may  be  judged  from  this  brief 
extract  from  a  letter,  to  a  friend  in  England,  of  Mrs. 
E.  H.  Walsh,  wife  of  the  American  ambassador  to 
France : — 

"  VERSAILLES,  June  3, 1855. 

"  Pray  remember  me  to  Miss  DJx.  If  with  you,  tell  her 
I  kiss  the  hem  of  her  garment,  and  bless  God  that  our 
country  has  produced  such  a  noble  heart.  She  will  see  the 
honorable  mention  of  her  services  by  the  Earl  of  Shaftes- 
bury  in  Parliament,  and  Mr.  Walsh  is  about  to  add  his  tes- 
timony to  her  immense  worth,  in  his  correspondence.  He 
regrets  very  much  not  having  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Miss  Dix.  He  is  right.  Such  a  woman  is  to  be  worshiped, 
if  anything  human  could  be  worshiped." 

Again,  by  the  Annual  Convention  of  the  Associa- 
tion of  Superintendents  of  American  Insane  Asylums, 
held  in  the  summer  of  1855,  Miss  Dix  was  addressed 
in  terms  of  honor  and  love  like  these :  — 

"  Resolved,  That  the  Secretary  of  the  Association  be  di- 
rected to  request  Miss  Dix  to  favor  us  at  our  next  meeting 


276  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

with  an  account  of  her  observations  and  investigations  in  the 
countries  she  is  now  visiting,  the  same  to  be  read  in  private 
session  and  be  deemed  strictly  confidential,  if  in  her  judg- 
ment or  wish  such  a  course  is  expedient. 

"  Our  Association  has  never  met  without  many  grateful 
recognitions  of  your  invaluable  services  to  humanity,  and 
though,  at  the  late  meeting,  you  and  ourselves  were  much 
more  widely  separated  than  ever  before  since  we  became  an 
organized  body,  I  can  assure  you  that  you  never  held  a 
higher  place  in  our  most  respectful  consideration.  And 
while  on  the  one  hand  we  felt  much  fraternal  solicitude  on 
account  of  your  continued  feebleness,  it  on  the  other  af- 
forded us  the  liveliest  satisfaction  to  learn  that  our  mother- 
countrymen  have  received  you  with  that  eminent  consider- 
ation and  personal  kindness  which  are  so  fully  accorded  to 
you  everywhere  at  home. 

"  We  all  miss  you  from  the  country,  and  especially  do 
those  of  us  miss  the  great  benefits  of  your  personal  encour- 
agement and  cooperation,  who  are  the  immediate  masters  of 
those  *  many  mansions  '  of  beneficence,  which  owe  their  exist- 
ence under  Providence  to  the  extrordinary  success  of  your 
appeals  to  humanity  in  prosperity  in  favor  of  humanity  in 
adversity.  We  pray  for  the  renewal  of  your  health  and 
strength,  and  shall  hail  with  gladness  your  return  to  the 
scenes  of  your  widest  and  most  fruitful  labors.  "  .  .  .  . 

"  I  am,  dear  Madam,  with  the  highest  esteem, 
"  Your  friend  and  servant, 

"  J.  H.  NICHOLS,  Secretary." 

Finally,  let  the  two  following  extracts  from  the 
letters  of  superintendents  of  large  asylums  in  America, 
suffice  as  evidence  of  the  peculiar  honor  in  which  alike 
her  sound  judgment  and  personal  approval  were  at 
this  period  held.  The  names  of  the  writers,  long  at 
the  head  of  great  institutions,  are,  on  grounds  of  deli- 
cacy, withheld,  though  in  all  probability  they  would 
give  glad  permission  to  have  them  used. 


THE   CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  277 

The  first  extract  confines  itself  to  remembrances  of 
past  services  of  Miss  Dix,  when  on  one  of  her  visits 
to  an  asylum  :  — 

**  It  is  not,  however,  by  any  such  visible  tokens  as  books 
and  pictures  that  your  visit  will  be  remembered.  Your 
clear  and  unmistakable  showing  of  what  our  defects  are,  is 
the  greatest  boon  that  you  could  have  conferred.  I  did 
not  misunderstand  those  criticisms,  so  delicately  adminis- 
tered to  others,  and,  at  the  same  time,  so  applicable  to  us. 
Not  only  has  every  observation  been  carefully  treasured  up 
in  my  memory,  but  every  word  which  could  be  remembered 
has  been  made  the  text  for  suggestive  commentaries  of  my 
own." 

The  extract  which  follows  is  in  a  vein  rarely  adopted 
by  an  eminent  professional  man  to  a  woman,  with  no 
other  diploma  but  the  diploma  of  a  strong  brain,  a 
wide  experience,  and  a  great  heart :  — 

"  Thus  you  see  that  I  have  not  been  idle  during  your 
absence  from  the  country  of  upwards  of  six  months,  but 
have  diligently  striven  to  do  what  was  demanded  of  my 
position,  and  what  I  thought  you  would  approve,  —  always 
feeling  a  responsibility  to  your  prospective  approbation  in 
carrying  on  a  work  which  is  so  rightfully  yours.  If  you 
can  say  « Well  done !  '  to  what  is  already  done,  I  shall  be 
glad.  Your  confidence  and  friendship  are  a  well  of  pleasure 
and  a  tower  of  strength  to  me.  I  think  I  appreciate  them. 
I  hope  they  are  not  misplaced. 

"  I  am  not  unaware  of  your  noble  and  extraordinary 
achievements  in  view  of  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of 
the  insane  of  Scotland.  I  know  that  this  is  a  secondary 
consideration  with  you,  but  I  think  the  narrative  of  that 
achievement  will  make  one  of  the  brightest  pages  in  the 
history  of  the  progressive  ameliorations  of  the  sufferings  of 
humanity." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON   THE   CONTINENT. 

IN  a  letter,  already  quoted,  to  Miss  Heath,  of  date, 
East  Riding,  England,  June  1,  1855,  there  occurs  the 
first  intimation  of  an  intention  on  the  part  of  Miss 
Dix  to  prolong  her  stay  in  Europe,  and  visit  the  Con- 
tinent. She  is,  as  she  says,  "  very  feeble,  but  not 
helpless,  and  never  cheerless,"  and  goes  on,  "  it  is 
now  beginning  to  dawn  on  me  that  I  may  not  go  to 
the  United  States  this  autumn.  I  do  not  see  any 
great  use  in  getting  back  just  as  the  cold  weather  ad- 
vances, unless  there  is  a  call  to  labor.  If  so,  I  dare 
say  the  strength  would  come  for  the  daily  task, — 
4  Daily  the  manna  fell  from  heaven.'  " 

Accordingly,  as  the  summer  advanced,  a  cordial 
invitation  from  the  Rathbones,  then  in  Switzerland,  to 
join  them  as  their  guest  and  see  the  Alps,  brought 
matters  to  a  final  decision  with  her. 

Naturally  anxious  to  do  everything  for  her  health 
and  comfort,  her  kindly  friends  had  strongly  urged 
upon  her  that,  before  setting  out  from  England,  she 
should  secure  the  services  of  a  capable  woman  as 
maid,  —  a  proposition  which  called  from  Miss  Dix 
the  following  characteristic  and  rather  amusing  reply : 

"  You  desire  that  I  should  have  some  one  with  me,  a 
maid,  to  save  me  fatigue  and  prevent  my  feeling  desolate 
when  alone.  A  maid  would  be  only  in  the  way,  with  noth- 
ing to  do;  and,  for  feeling  desolate,  I  never  felt  desolate  in 


ON  THE   CONTINENT.  279 

my  life,  and  I  have  been  much  alone  in  both  populous  and 
thinly-settled  countries.  .  .  .  You  are  quite  right  in  saying 
I  cannot  rest  in  England  any  more  than  in  America,  now 
that  I  know  how  much  suffering  calls  aloud  for  relief.  I 
must  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  cries,  and  go  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  sound  of  the  many  afflicted  ones,  till  I  have  gathered 
up  force  to  renew  —  should  it  please  God  that  I  work 
longer  —  the  work  whereunto  I  am  called." 

To  the  reader  of  this  biography,  already  familiar 
with  Miss  Dix's  habits  of  travel  on  her  lonely  and 
hazardous  journeys  through  the  former  comparative 
wildernesses  of  the  southern  and  western  regions  of 
the  United  States,  —  journeys  on  which  she  always 
carried  with  her  a  private  outfit  of  hammers,  screws, 
wrenches,  leather  straps,  and  coils  of  rope,  to  be  ready 
for  repairs  in  event  of  accident,  —  it  will  easily  be 
conceived  that  the  proposed  relation,  however  kindly 
suggested,  between  Miss  Dix  and  a  maid  would  hardly 
have  proved  a  happy  one  for  either  party.  Miss  Dix 
would  have  been  distressed  for  fear  of  the  maid 
"  feeling  desolate,"  while  the  maid  herself  would  have 
been  frightened  out  of  all  propriety  at  having  to  stand 
by  and  see  the  thousand  and  one  things  her  mistress 
could  do  for  herself,  beyond  anything  it  had  ever  en- 
tered her  humble  imagination  to  conceive. 

The  Swiss  visit  proved  to  Miss  Dix  one  of  the  most 
delightful  holiday  seasons  of  her  active  and  crowded 
life.  In  after  years,  she  never  tired  of  talking  about 
Chamonix  and  the  Bernese  Oberland.  Once  "  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  sound  of  the  many  afflicted 
ones,"  she  seems  to  have  freely  yielded  herself  to  the 
spell  of  the  magnificent  spectacle  daily  before  her 
eyes.  Easily  rising,  as  was  constitutional  with  her, 
to  a  state  of  high  spiritual  exaltation,  she  speaks  of 


280  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

the  "  snow-clad  peaks,  mantled  with  their  regal  robes 
of  pasture  and  forest,  as  a  sublime  cathedral  anthem 
to  God."  Along  with  this,  her  vivid  interest  in  all 
natural  phenomena  —  next  to  compassion  the  strong- 
est impulse  of  her  nature  —  here  found  a  fruitful  field 
of  exercise.  The  glaciers,  the  Arctic  flora,  the  geo- 
logic forces  in  such  active  operation,  now  supplied  her 
with  data  at  least,  which  in  all  later  years  made  her 
an  eager  and  appreciative  reader  of  the  studies  on 
these  subjects  of  men  like  Agassiz,  Lyell,  and  Tyndal. 
Even,  in  the  midst  of  the  distraction  and  suffering  of 
the  later  Civil  War,  she  writes,  in  1862 :  — 

"  Your  thoughtful  care  for  my  gratification  in  planning 
that  pleasant  journey  to  the  Continent  has  enriched  my  life 
for  all  time.  I  never  find  the  glorious  views  of  the  Alps 
fade  from  my  mind's  eye.  A  thousand  incidents  recall  and 
repeat  the  memory  of  those  grand  snow  peaks  piercing  the 
skies." 

Moreover,  the  rest  and  recreation  of  spirit  thus 
afforded  had  acted  so  beneficially  on  her  physical 
condition  that  she  at  last  felt  justified  in  carrying  out 
the  plan  she  had  for  some  time  been  revolving,  of  an 
extended  tour  of  observation  of  the  hospitals,  insane 
asylums,  and  prisons  of  Europe,  including  those  of 
Turkey,  with,  possibly,  the  accomplishment  of  the 
yearned-for  visit  to  Palestine. 

Accompanying  the  Rathbones  on  their  way  back  to 
England,  Miss  Dix  shortly  after  parted  with  them  and 
set  out  for  France.  She  was  now  once  more  alone, 
and,  as  she  liked  to  be  when  engrossed  in  her  work, 
left  to  her  sole  individual  resources.  How  meagre  in 
one  important  respect  were  these  resources,  could  not 
but  awaken  a  half-compassionate,  half-amused  smile 


ON  THE   CONTINENT.  281 

in  her  devoted  friends.  Apart  from  English,  she 
spoke  no  other  language  but  a  little  very  rudimentary 
French ;  and  here  she  was  proposing  to  face  un- 
daunted the  linguistic  problems  of  Italy,  Greece,  Tur- 
key, Sclavoiiia,  Russia,  Germany,  Norway,  and  Hol- 
land, and  that,  too,  before  the  days  of  the  "royal 
road  "  to  philological  knowledge  later  opened  by  the 
introduction  of  polyglot  waiters  into  every  inn.  Not 
unlikely,  however,  in  her  fondness  for  heroic  stories 
and  her  keen  sense  of  their  pith  and  marrow,  she  had 
called  to  mind  the  legendary  account  of  the  mother  of 
St.  Thomas  a  Becket :  how,  deserted  in  Syria  by  her 
husband,  an  English  crusader,  the  poor  yearning  wife 
had  set  out  from  the  East,  traversed  all  Europe  on 
foot,  and  finally  rejoined  him  in  his  own  land  on  the 
strength  of  the  two  sole  words  of  his  language  she 
knew,  "  a  Becket "  and  "  England."  Surely,  if  a 
lone  Moslem  woman  was  equal  to  such  a  feat,  why 
might  not  an  American  woman,  mistress  of  a  little 
rudimentary  French,  hope  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of 
Greek  insane  asylums,  Turkish  bagnios,  and  Russian 
prisons. 

Fortunately  there  remain  a  number  of  letters  by 
the  help  of  which  Miss  Dix's  footsteps  can  be  traced 
through  a  part  of  the  long  journeyings,  to  which  she 
was  now  to  devote  nearly  a  full  year.  Those  from 
France  are  few  and  unimportant,  but  as  she  makes  her 
way  to  Italy,  Greece,  and  onward  to  Constantinople, 
they  become  more  frequent  and  more  eventful :  — 

To  MRS.  RATHBONE. 
"METTRAY,  NEAR  TOURS,  September  3,  1855. 

"  Arrived  at  Rouen  at  4  p.  M.  Visited  hospitals  for  aged 
men  and  women,  and  establishment  for  juvenile  offenders 


282  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

at  Quilly,  five  miles  out  of  Rouen,  at  St.  Yon  another. 
Then  Paris,  then  Orleans,  then  Blois,  then  Tours,  then 
Mettray.  Go  next  to  Nantes,  return  to  Paris." 

To  MRS.  RATHBONE. 

"  PARIS,  September,  1855. 

"  Yesterday,  and  only  till  then,  I  became  possessor  of  a 
full  Police  and  Magisterial  Sanction  under  seal,  —  for  which 
nine  official  parties  were  to  be  reached,  —  for  entering  all 
the  prisons  and  hospitals  of  Paris,  without  exception." 

To  MBS.  SAMUEL  TORREY,  BOSTON,  U.  S. 

"PARIS,  November,  1855. 

"I  am  still  entirely  occupied  in  seeing  the  charitable 
institutions  of  this  city  and  environs,  which  I  hope  to  have 
done  by  two  weeks  more.  The  very  short  days  and  the 
very  dull  weather  unite  to  make  this  slow  work.  I  am 
obliged  to  take  much  rest ;  it  seems  to  have  become  abso- 
lutely the  condition  on  which  I  do  anything  in  the  pursuit 
of  my  vocation.  The  vast  multiplication  of  all  sorts  of  hos- 
pitals for  all  sorts  of  complaints  and  infirmities,  and  for  all 
ages,  tells  of  the  different  condition  of  family  life  from  that 
we  are  used  to  observe.  I  quite  comprehend  the  turbulence 
and  crimes  of  revolutionary  periods,  especially  those  move- 
ments in  which  women  have  been  conspicuous  for  trampling 
on  all  laws  human  and  divine." 

To  DR.  BUTTOLPH,  TRENTON,  U.  S. 

u  PARIS,  December  3,  1855. 

"  I  should  say  that  all  the  charitable  institutions  of  Paris, 
liberally  supported  as  they  are  by  government,  possess  in  a 
large  measure  great  excellencies,  but  two  radical  universal 
defects,  at  least,  strike  the  most  casual  observer.  The  want 
of  ventilation  is  the  chiefest  ill,  and  quite  explains  the  amaz- 
ing mortality,  apart  from  the  well-known  experimental 
methods  of  treatment  by  the  Internes,  —  resident  students. 
In  all  these  establishments,  associated  with  other  employees, 


ON  THE   CONTINENT.  283 

are  found  Sisters  of  Charity,  and  nuns  of  various  orders. 
Some  of  them  are  very  self-denying,  not  many.  They  are 
never  over-tasked,  except  possibly  in  some  period  of  serious 
epidemic.  As  for  the  priests,  they  should  for  the  most 
part  occupy  places  in  houses  of  correctional  discipline,  and 
enlightening  cultivation." 

It  was  not  until  the  second  week  in  January  that 
Miss  Dix,  after  completing  her  examination  of  the 
charitable  institutions  of  France,  was  ready  to  leave 
for  Italy.  The  first  letter  from  there  bears  date, 
Genoa,  March  3,  1856  :  - 

To  MRS.  RATHBONE. 

"  GENOA,  ITALY,  March  3,  1856. 

"This  morning  I  spent  in  the  hospital  for  the  insane, 
and  find  much  to  commend,  with  some  things  to  disap- 
prove ;  but  after  seeing  that  at  Rome,  I  regard  all  other 
institutions  in  this  country  with  comparative  favor.  ...  I 
left  Naples,  Rome,  and  Florence  with  regret  that  I  could  not 
have  had  leisure  to  observe  the  works  of  art,  ancient  and 
modern,  which  have  great  attraction,  but  I  saw  a  good  deal, 
considering  the  claims  of  hospitals  and  the  short  time  I 
spent  in  each  place.  I  get  daily  news  from  Constantinople 
which  moves  my  sympathy  for  the  poor  insane  of  Turkey. 
Innovations  in  usages  are  now  fast  going  on  there,  so  we 
may  hope  the  hospitals  will  share  in  the  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion." 

Three  days  later,  the  above  letter  is  followed  by 
one  to  Mrs.  Samuel  Torrey,  in  which  a  backward 
glance  is  thrown  by  Miss  Dix  over  the  objects  that 
had  engaged  her  since  her  arrival  in  Italy :  — 

To  MBS.  SAMUEL  TORREY. 

"GENOA,  March  6,  1856. 

"  I  left  Marseilles  so  suddenly  for  Italy  the  second  week 
of  January,  and  since  have  been  so  wholly  and  fatiguingly 


284  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  D1X. 

occupied,  that  all  letter- writing  is  very  seriously  interfered 
with.  ...  I  was  but  thirteen  days  in  Naples.  The  bad 
weather  which  I  had  experienced  during  all  the  autumn  in 
France  followed  me  there.  I  found  at  Rome  a  hospital  for 
the  insane  so  very  bad,  that  I  set  about  the  difficult  work  of 
reform  at  once,  and  during  the  fourteen  days  I  was  there, 
so  far  succeeded  as  to  have  Papal  promises  and  Cardinal 
assurances,  etc.,  of  immediate  action  in  remedying  abuses 
and  supplying  deficiencies.  I  have  promised  some  of  the 
Roman  citizens  and  some  of  the  physicians  to  return  there 
in  two  months,  if  no  advance  is  made  in  the  object  of  my 
late  efforts,  so  that  coming  to  the  United  States  in  June  is, 
I  fear,  quite  set  aside.  I  also  wish  a  new  hospital  in  Flor- 
ence. This  has  been  contemplated  by  the  Commune  of  Flor- 
ence, but  the  onerous  taxation  consequent  on  the  Austrian 
invasion  has  impoverished  the  city.  You  need  not  be  much 
surprised  to  hear  of  me  in  Constantinople.  I  have  for  a 
long  time  felt  distressed  at  the  horrid  stories  of  suffering  in 
the  prisons  and  hospitals  there ;  and  yet,  till  quite  lately,  I 
have  not  had  a  thought  of  personally  undertaking  anything  in 
that  quarter  ;  but  recent  political  and  social  changes,  joined 
with  information  had  from  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Hamilton, 
recently  returned  from  the  East,  have  led  me  to  believe 
that  something  might  be  commenced  in  the  way  of  reform. 
.  .  .  My  work  seems  to  me  to  be  indicated  by  Providence, 
and  I  cannot  conscientiously  turn  away  from  attempting,  as 
far  as  possible,  to  alleviate  miseries  wherever  I  find  them." 

Only  a  day  after  the  dispatch  of  the  preceding  let- 
ter, Miss  Dix  writes  as  follows,  from  Turin  :  — 

To  MRS.  RATHBONE. 

"  TURIN,  ITALY,  March  7,  1856. 

"  I  left  Genoa  at  11  A.  M.  and  arrived  safely  after  a  very 
pleasant  journey.  ...  It  is  just  as  easy  traveling  alone 
here  as  it  is  in  England  or  America.  I  now  regret  I  had 
not  sooner  tried  it." 


ON  THE   CONTINENT.  285 

Next  day  :  "  The  General  Hospitals  here,  as  in  Italy  at 
large,  are  very  good,  but  that  in  this  city  for  the  insane  is 
so  bad  that  I  feel  quite  heart-sick.  I  drove  to  the  hospital 
in  the  country,  —  very  bad.  Then  I  drove  to  the  hospital 
within  the  walls,  made  an  appointment  with  the  chief  doctor 
for  to-morrow,  and  with  the  Protestant  minister,  shall  try  to 
represent  the  .importance  of  entire  change  for  the  patients. 
I  do  not  think  it  will  do  much  good,  but  it  is  my  duty  to  try. 
I  shall  appeal  in  writing  to  the  king.  Leave  for  Milan  to- 
morrow." 

Later  :  "  My  plans  appear  to  be  about  as  stable  as  spring 
breezes.  After  the  meeting  touching  hospital  affairs  yester- 
day, and  which  only  served  to  establish  my  opinion  of  the 
melancholy  defects  of  the  institutions  in  question,  I  was  in- 
vited to  visit  to  day  the  five  prisons  of  Turin,  and  to  join 
in  my  application  for  hospital  reform  some  remonstrance 
against  the  pernicious  arrangement  of  these  establishments. 
I  have  not  to  convince  officers  of  government  alone,  but  to 
make  stand  against  the  priests,  who  interfere  with  every- 
thing that  is  done  or  to  be  done.  I  never  felt  anything 
more  difficult  than  this  work  in  Italy.  In  Rome  I  found 
government  and  the  priestly  office  united,  and  the  very 
shame  of  foreign  and  Protestant  interposition  quickened 
them  to  action  or  promise  rather  than  humanity  ;  but  in 
Florence,  Genoa,  and  here,  it  is  a  fact  that  changes  are 
coming  over  the  old  rule,  and  one  must  wait  a  little  where 
so  much  is  doing  and  to  be  done.  I  will  now  make  no  more 
plans  for  going  or  returning,  so  many  things  constantly  oc- 
cur to  change  or  hinder  my  intentions." 

From  the  above  letters  it  is  evident  that  in  Rome 
itself  Miss  Dix  felt  she  had  struck  upon  a  worse  con- 
dition of  things  in  the  treatment  of  the  insane  than 
anywhere  else  in  Italy.  Even  in  Naples,  and  under 
the  rule  of  King  "  Bomba,"  she  had  found  an  asylum 
worthy  of  warm  tributes  of  praise ;  but  here,  under 


286  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.   D1X. 

the  very  shadow  of  the  Vatican,  the  condition  of  the 
lunatic  was  so  hopelessly  wretched  as  to  convince  her 
that  this  must  be  her  field  of  immediate  energetic  ac- 
tion. As  it  will  be  necessary  to  enlarge  to  some  extent 
on  the  work  she  accomplished  in  Rome,  it  is  a  satisfac- 
tion to  find  a  letter,  expressive  of  her  personal  feeling 
on  the  subject,  addressed  by  her  from  Florence  to  her 
friends,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Buttolph,  of  Trenton,  N.  J. 

To  DR.  AND  MRS.  BUTTOLPH. 

"  FLORENCE,  ITALY,  1856. 

"  In  Naples  I  did  nothing  for  hospitals  ;  indeed,  strange 
as  it  is,  I  found  a  better  institution  there  for  the  insane  than 
has  been  founded  in  all  southern  and  central  Italy.  In 
Rome  things  were  quite  different.  6,000  priests,  300 
monks,  3,000  nuns,  and  a  spiritual  sovereignty  joined  with 
the  temporal  powers  had  not  assured  for  the  miserable 
insane  a  decent,  much  less  an  intelligent,  care.  I  could  not 
bear  to  know  this,  see  this,  and  do  nothing.  An  appeal  to 
the  Pope  which  involved  care,  patience,  time,  and  negotia- 
tion has  secured  promises.  Land  is  bought  (at  least  I  had 
the  assurances  of  the  officers  of  state  that  it  was  that  day 
purchased),  and  plans  are  prepared.  Now  if  these  are  not 
carried  out,  I  do  not  return  to  the  United  States  but  go  to 
Rome  and  stay  till  they  do  that  which  is  needed.  .  .  .  Since 
coining  to  Florence  five  days  ago,  I  find  a  bad  hospital  here, 
and  mountains  of  difficulty  in  the  way  of  remedy  for  serious 
ills.  I  have  the  idea  of  removing  these  mountains,  and  see- 
ing if  Protestant  energy  cannot  work  what  Catholic  powers 
fail  to  undertake." 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  it  was  a  work  of  a  very 
delicate  nature  which  Miss  Dix  now  found  on  her 
hands.  She  was  a  foreigner,  a  Protestant,  and  a 
woman ;  and  yet,  with  all  these  serious  disabilities,  she 
now  saw  it  in  the  light  of  inexorable  duty  to  seek  an 


0.V   THE   CONTINENT.  287 

audience  of  the  Supreme  Pontiff  of  the  great  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  and,  in  a  way  not  to  offend  his  sensi- 
bilities, but  graciously  to  win  his  favor,  clearly  to 
apprise  the  "  Anointed  Vicar  of  Christ  on  Earth," 
that  in  the  light  of  modern  knowledge  and  humanity, 
the  insane  asylum  of  the  Holy  City  was  a  disgrace 
and  a  scandal.  The  audience  must  be,  moreover,  no 
mere  ceremonial  interview,  with  graceful  interchange 
of  bows  and  genuflections,  but  a  direct  encounter  be- 
tween the  two  grand  rival  Infallibilities  confronting 
one  another  in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  —  the  Infalli- 
bility of  Rome,  and  the  infallibility  of  Enlightened 
Reason.  That  in  the  realm  of  the  new  revelation  of 
the  humane  and  rational  treatment  of  insanity  which 
had  now  broken  upon  the  world,  she  stood  a  divinely- 
commissioned  champion  of  Moral  Reason,  and  was 
backed  by  an  authority  of  science  so  irresistible  that 
"  whatsoever  it  should  bind  on  earth,  should  be  bound 
in  heaven,"  —  of  all  this  she  felt  no  more  question 
than  Pope  Hildebrand,  when  at  Canossa  he  confronted 
the  imperial  power  of  Henry  IV.  with  the  sacerdotal 
power  embodied  in  his  own  personality.  No  such 
thing  was  there,  no  such  thing  could  there  be,  as  an 
infallibly-good  bad  insane  asylum. 

At  the  same  time,  there  could  be  no  employment 
here  of  Hildebrand  tactics.  The  weapons  of  the 
modern  warfare  of  humane  science  are  not  of  the  flesh, 
but  of  the  spirit.  They  demand  no  trophies  in  the 
shape  of  humiliated  defiers  of  their  dogmas.  But 
they  do  demand,  with  more  than  Papal  authority, 
absolute  and  unconditional  submission,  and  that  their 
"Yea  shall  be  Yea,  and  their  Nay,  Nay,"  in  "sa3cula 
saeculorum."  So  now,  if  a  new  triumph  for  the  out- 
cast and  miserable  was  to  be  won,  it  could  come  alone 


288  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

of  convincing  the  judgment  and  touching  the  heart  of 
Pope  Pius  IX. 

As  Miss  Dix  herself  wrote,  "The  appeal  to  the 
Pope  involved  care,  patience,  time,  and  negotiation." 
Fortunately,  early  in  her  attempts  she  had  secured 
the  powerful  assistance  of  Cardinal  Antonelli,  who 
entered  warmly  into  her  scheme,  and  whose  clear-cut 
intellectual  force  made  a  life-long  impression  on  her. 
Alike  as  an  astute  diplomatist,  and  as  almost  the  last 
survival  of  the  old  regime  of  cardinals,  who  contrived 
to  unite  the  freedom  from  earthly  ties  of  the  celibate 
state  with  a  large  family  of  children,  perhaps  too  openly 
permitted  to  avow  their  parentage  on  the  Corso, 
Cardinal  Antonelli  has  come  in  for  his  full  share  of 
censorious  criticism.  But  it  is  a  curious  fact  that,  to 
the  end  of  her  days,  Miss  Dix  —  whose  standard  in 
such  matters  was  inexorable  —  would  never  in  her 
presence  suffer  a  word  to  be  said  against  him.  He 
was  the  most  enlightened,  humane,  and  merciful  man, 
she  insisted,  she  had  found  in  Rome,  a  man  who 
spared  himself  no  pains  to  urge  the  plea  of  the 
wronged  and  suffering. 

Unfortunately,  no  letter  or  paper  of  any  kind  re- 
mains that  might  serve  to  recall  the  particulars  of  the 
interview  Miss  Dix  ultimately  obtained  with  Pope 
Pius  IX.  That  it  was  one  which,  from  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  —  the  supreme  spiritual  authority 
of  the  Pontiff,  the  beautiful  benignity  of  the  man,  and 
the  far-reaching  consequences  it  might  entail,  —  must 
have  called  out  her  full  resources,  there  can  be  no 
question.  All  that  can  be  gathered  to-day  to  illus- 
trate the  scene  must  come  from  the  memories  of  cer- 
tain of  Miss  Dix's  still  surviving  friends,  to  whom,  in 
those  rare  hours  of  intimacy  in  which  she  suffered  her 


ON  THE   CONTINENT.  289 

habitual  reticence  about  herself  to  be  broken  through, 
she  told  the  story. 

She  found  Pius  IX.  benignity  itself.  Happily  at 
home  in  English,  nothing  of  the  power  of  the  plea 
was  lost  by  having  to  pass  through  the  medium  of  an 
interpreter.  He  listened  with  fixed  attention  to  her 
recital,  and  was  painfully  shocked  at  its  details,  prom- 
ising her  immediately  to  make  a  personal  examination 
and  appointing  a  second  audience  at  a  later  date.  A 
day  or  two  after,  he  drove  unannounced  to  the  insane 
asylum,  and  taking  its  officials  unawares  inspected  the 
wards  himself.  Then,  at  the  second  audience  granted 
Miss  Dix,  he  freely  acknowledged  his  distress  at  the 
condition  of  things  he  had  found,  and  warmly  thanked 
her,  a  woman  and  a  Protestant,  for  crossing  the  seas 
to  call  to  his  attention  as  Chief  Shepherd  of  the  Sheep 
these  cruelly-entreated  members  of  his  flock.  "  And 
did  you  really  kneel  down  and  kiss  his  hand  ?  "  were 
wont  to  ask  some  of  her  ultra-Protestant  and  Quaker 
hearers.  "  Most  certainly,  I  did,"  she  would  reply. 
"  I  revered  him  for  his  saintliness." 

And  yet  impressive,  and  perhaps  entirely  unex- 
pected, as  this  scene  and  its  sequel  may  appear  to  the 
majority  of  Protestant  readers,  their  nai've  surprise  is 
simply  a  measure  of  their  ignorance  of  the  grand  tra- 
dition of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Through  all 
the  centuries  of  Christendom,  has  that  marvelous  re- 
ligious organization  known  how  to  interpret,  utilize, 
and  open  a  career  to  exceptional  women,  after  a  fash- 
ion that  Protestantism  has  never  yet  mastered.  That, 
for  example,  the  "  Babylonian  Captivity "  of  the 
church  was  brought  to  an  end,  and  the  restoration  of 
the  Papacy  from  Avignon  to  the  Eternal  City  finally 
effected,  by  the  clear  insight  and  passionate  pleading 


290  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

of  a  woman,  Catherine  of  Siena,  is  something  which  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  has  never  hesitated  proudly 
and  gratefully  to  avow.  Such  rare  and  exceptional 
combinations  in  women  of  mystical  fervor  of  faith  with 
commanding  practical  ability,  it  has  not  only  known 
how  to  avail  itself  of  for  founding  new  and  im- 
mensely effective  religious  orders  in  all  lands,  but,  af- 
ter death,  it  has  canonized  the  representatives  of  them 
as  saints  ;  thus  dowering  them  with  a  supernatural 
power  over  generations  to  come  greater  even  than  the 
natural  power  they  exerted  over  their  own  genera- 
tions. 

In  point  of  fact,  a  woman  of  precisely  the  same 
stamp  was  standing  there  before  Pius  IX.  in  the  Vat- 
ican, February,  1856.  Had  she  been  born  in  1515  in 
still  medieval  and  imaginatively-religious  Spain,  in- 
stead of  in  1802  in  rational,  practical  New  England, 
then,  just  as  inevitably  as  in  the  case  of  St.  Theresa, 
would  she  have  founded  great  conventual  establish- 
ments in  a  Malaga,  Valladolid,  Toledo,  Segovia,  and 
Salamanca,  as  she  in  reality  did  great  asylums  for  the 
insane  in  a  Baltimore,  Raleigh,  Columbia,  Nashville, 
Lexington,  or  Halifax.  Equally  too  would  she  have 
ruled  them  as  abbess.  Precisely  the  same  characteris- 
tics marked  her,  the  same  absolute  religious  conse- 
cration, the  same  heroic  readiness  to  trample  under 
foot  the  pains  of  illness,  loneliness,  and  opposition,  the 
same  intellectual  grasp  of  what  a  great  reformatory 
work  demanded. 

St.  Theresa  was  nourished  from  childhood  on  the 
miraculous  legends  of  the  saints,  and  breathed  all  her 
life  an  atmosphere  of  supernatural  marvel  and  por- 
tent. Dorothea  Lynde  Dix  was  nourished  on  the  de- 
vout humanitarianism  of  Channing,  and  breathed  the 


ON  THE   CONTINENT.  291 

quickening  air  of  a  time  just  awakening  to  enthusias- 
tic faith  in  the  amelioration  of  human  misery  through 
the  beneficent  discoveries  of  science.  And  so,  very 
curious,  historically,  is  it  to  notice,  in  the  parallel  of 
these  two  kindred  founders  of  great  institutions,  the 
change  of  view  time  works  in  religious  faiths.  The 
acute  pain  in  the  side  which  through  life  clung  to  each 
of  them,  and  which  came  in  each  instance  of  pulmo- 
nary weakness,  was  in  the  first  case  believed  to  have 
been  a  stroke  delivered  by  an  angel  who  pierced  her 
with  a  lance  tipped  with  fire,  and  in  the  other  —  though 
equally  tipped  with  fire  —  devoutly  accepted  as  the 
ordained  action  of  those  immutable  physical  laws  of 
God,  through  which  He  works  out  the  eternal  counsel 
of  His  will. 

Very  great,  then,  was  the  mistake  made  by  a  woman 
of  such  genius  as  George  Eliot,  when,  in  her  attempt 
in  Middlemarch,  to  portray  the  inevitable  fate  in  this 
shallow,  material  Nineteenth  Century,  of  a  modern 
St.  Theresa,  she  selected  as  the  type  of  such  a  nature, 
a  sentimental  woman  like  Dorothea  Brooke,  and  as  the 
pitiful  outcome  of  all  such  soaring  aspirations,  evolved 
the  story  of  her  marriage  with  the  acrid  bookworm 
Casaubon,  whom  she  had  fancifully  mistaken  for  a  pro- 
found scholar  and  a  man  of  sublime  aims.  "  Doro- 
thea," comments  George  Eliot,  "  with  all  her  eagerness 
to  know  the  truth  of  life,  retained  very  childlike  ideas 
about  marriage.  She  felt  sure  tliat  she  would  have 
accepted  the  '  Judicious  Hooker,'  if  she  had  been  born 
in  time  to  save  him  from  that  wretched  mistake  he 
made  in  matrimony  ;  or  John  Milton  when  his  blind- 
ness had  come  on  ;  or  any  of  the  other  great  men 
whose  odd  habits  it  would  have  been  glorious  piety  to 
endure." 


292  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Now,  retrospective  visions  on  the  part  of  gentle  and 
aspiring  young  ladies  of  the  blissful  changes  that 
would  have  been  wrought  in  the  fate  of  departed  men 
of  genius,  had  they  themselves  only  happened  to  be 
Mrs.  Richard  Hooker  or  Mrs.  John  Milton,  are  no 
doubt  very  charming  and,  had  they  come  in  time, 
would  have  spared  much  domestic  misery.  Still,  such 
romantic  visions  are  at  the  last  remove  from  any  kind 
of  proof  that  the  young  ladies  in  question  have  the 
attributes  of  a  St.  Theresa.  "  A  new  Theresa,"  says 
George  Eliot,  "  will  hardly  have  the  opportunity  of 
reforming  a  conventual  life,  any  more  than  a  new 
Antigone  will  spend  her  heroic  piety  in  daring  all  for 
the  sake  of  a  brother's  burial ;  the  medium  in  which 
their  ardent  deeds  took  shape  is  forever  gone."  "  No, 
the  medium  is  forever  here ! "  say  the  real  St.  The- 
resas. "  In  one  age,  it  assumes  one  shape  ;  in  an- 
other, another.  He  that  has  eyes  to  see,  let  him 
see !  " 

To  return,  however,  to  the  audiences  granted  Miss 
Dix  in  the  Vatican  by  Pope  Pius  IX.  The  first  out- 
come of  them  was  most  assuring  to  her.  And  yet, 
though  confident  the  Pope  would  remain  faithful  to  his 
own  pledges,  and  relying  on  Cardinal  Antonelli  as  a 
tower  of  strength,  she  still  read  with  perfect  clear- 
ness the  character  of  the  ecclesiastical  bureaucracy  of 
Rome,  and  understood  how  many  an  interest  of  igno- 
rance, superstition,  and  private  greed  would  lift  its 
outcry  against  every  shape  of  innovation.  She  there- 
fore stood  ready  —  as  has  already  been  seen  in  pre- 
viously quoted  letters  from  Florence  and  Genoa  —  to 
return  at  any  moment  to  Rome,  and  renew  the  battle. 
It  was,  however,  a  great  relief  before  long  to  learn 
that  an  especial  physician  had  been  sent  to  France  to 


ON  THE  CONTINENT.  293 

study  the  methods  of  the  best  asylums  there,  and  that 
a  tract  of  land  near  the  Villa  Borghese  had  actually 
been  purchased,  —  as  well  as,  still  later  on,  to  be  as- 
sured by  an  American  friend  in  Rome,  Dr.  Joseph 
Parish,  that  "  preliminary  steps  had  already  been 
taken  by  the  Pope  toward  the  erection  of  a  new  asylum 
on  the  most  approved  plan."  An  account  of  a  visit 
to  this  subsequently-erected  asylum,  written  Miss  Dix 
many  years  later,  by  Mrs.  J.  P.  Bancroft,  is  here  sub- 
joined :  — 

"  NAPLES,  February  7,  1876. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  Dix,  —  I  have  always  remembered 
with  lively  interest  the  accounts  you  gave  us,  many  years 
ago,  of  the  efforts  you  made  in  Rome  to  reach  the  insane, 
and  improve  their  condition.  This  recollection  gave  me 
more  than  ordinary  desire,  while  in  Rome,  to  see  the  asy- 
lum which  was  erected  by  Pius  IX.,  and  which  perhaps 
your  efforts  may  have  originated  in  his  mind.  So  I  devoted 
a  day  to  a  visit  at  the  Institution. 

"  I  found  ready  access  to  the  principal  Medical  Director, 
and  joined  him  in  a  circuit  of  ail  parts  of  the  houses  and 
grounds.  It  is  a  department  of  the  General  Hospital,  San 
Spiritoj  and  has  gone  under  the  control  of  the  Italian  Gov- 
ernment since  the  occupation.  .  .  .  There  are  650  patients, 
made  up  of  paying  patients  and  dependents,  the  latter  be- 
ing far  the  larger  number.  .  .  .  From  what  I  saw  I  believe 
the  management  is  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  the  times.  But 
in  the  realization  of  results,  two  obstacles  are  in  the  way, 
poverty  and  lack  of  the  best  experience.  While  these  exist, 
we  can  never  expect  the  conditions  found  in  English  and 
American  Asylums.  ...  I  think  their  ideas  and  demands 
as  to  personal  tidiness  and  cleanliness  are  much  more  lax 
than  among  the  English-speaking  peoples.  ...  I  was  not 
so  much  surprised  at  the  manner  in  which  I  saw  them  take 
their  meals,  when  I  observed  along  the  streets  the  poorer 
class  eating  in  their  homes.  .  .  .  Italy  is  fearfully  poor,  and 


294  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  D1X. 

the  people  are  taxed  to  the  last  extreme  ;  and,  with  this  and 
all  the  expense  of  the  military  system  she  feels  obliged  to 
keep  up,  I  cannot  see  how  very  great  improvement  can  be 
looked  for  at  present  in  the  management  of  their  public  in- 
stitutions of  charity.  .  .  .  There  can  be  no  question  that  a 
great  revolution  in  the  care  and  treatment  of  the  insane 
was  effected  by  the  organization  of  this  present  Institution, 
in  comparison  with  former  methods.  The  superintendent 
manifests  great  interest  in  his  work,  and  I  could  not  but 
regret  his  lack  of  means  to  make  the  house  as  pleasant  and 
inviting  as  money  might  make  it.  ... 

"  Very  cordially  your  friend, 

"J.  P.  BANCROFT." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

STILL  ON  THE  CONTINENT. 

ONCE  away  from  Italy,  which  she  left  early  in 
March,  1856,  the  first  traces  of  Miss  Dix  on  her  travel 
eastward,  are  met  in  two  time-stained  letters,  the  first 
addressed  to  Dr.  Buttolph,  in  the  United  States,  the 
second  to  Mr.  William  Kathbone,  in  England.  Writ- 
ten while  her  steamer  was  lying  at  anchor  in  the  har- 
bor of  the  Island  of  Corfu,  they  furnish  glimpses  of 
the  diligence  with  which  she  was  pursuing  her  ap- 
pointed work. 

To  DR.  H.  A.  BUTTOLPH. 

"  You  will  not  be  more  surprised  than  I  am  that  I  find 
traveling  alone  perfectly  easy.  I  get  into  all  the  hospitals 
and  all  the  prisons  I  have  time  to  see  or  strength  to  ex- 
plore. I  take  no  refusals,  and  yet  I  speak  neither  Italian, 
German,  Greek,  or  Sclavonic.  I  have  no  letter  of  introduc- 
tion, and  know  no  persons  en  route.  I  found  at  Trieste  a 
very  bad  hospital  for  the  insane.  Fortunately  a  physician 
attached  to  the  suite  of  the  Archduke  Maximilian  has  prom- 
ised the  intervention  of  government  at  Trieste  and  assured 
me  that  all  the  institutions  of  Austria  shall  be  open  to  my 
visits  if  I  come  to  Vienna."  .  .  . 

To  MB.  WILLIAM  RATHBONE. 

"  ISLAND  OF  CORFU,  March  27,  1850. 

"  I  have  just  time,  since  running  on  shore  to  see  the 
prisons  and  hospitals,  to  report  myself  briefly  to  you  and 
Mi's.  R.  Providence  graciously  protects  me,  and  I  am  in 


296  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

no  respects  thus  far  impeded  in  my  great  objects  of  seeing 
the  prisons  and  hospitals.  By  rare  good  fortune,  I  had  an 
introduction  to  the  physician  of  the  Archduke  Maximilian 
at  Trieste,  and  made  a  move  for  a  reform  and  renewal  of 
the  hospitals  for  the  insane  in  that  part  of  the  Austrian 
Dominions ;  also  had  the  promise  of  the  entre'e  to  all  the 
institutions  of  the  Empire,  if  I  went  to  Vienna.  When  the 
boat  arrived  last  night,  I  went  on  shore  as  early  as  I  could 
do  anything,  took  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  Greek  institutions ; 
—  saivall!" 

Five  days  later,  as  she  sits  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
a  steamer  at  Piraeus,  the  port  of  Athens,  another 
glimpse  is  caught  of  the  traveler,  and  of  the  way  in 
which  she  has  been  spending  the  intervening  time. 
Within  close  sight  of  Athens,  and  still,  in  her  letter, 
not  the  most  distant  allusion  to  the  Acropolis  or  the 
Parthenon,  or  Phidias,  nor  even  to  the  imperative 
need  of  raising  money  for  the  exhumation  of  statues 
which  would  reveal  a  new  ideal  of  the  glory  of  the 
human  form!  And  yet  never  a  soul  that  breathed, 
more  passionately  bent  on  the  exhumation,  from  be- 
neath the  accumulations  of  ages  of  cruelty  and  neglect, 
of  the  divine  archetypal  idea  of  man  as  created  in  the 
image  of  God ! 

As  an  illustration  of  the  power  of  a  dominating 
purpose  in  the  case  of  one  whose  mind  was  naturally 
so  active,  this  absence  of  any  reference  to  places, 
events,  and  personalities,  with  whose  inspiring  story 
she  had  been  familiar  from  childhood,  and  the  bare 
hope  of  ever  standing  on  whose  soil  would,  under  other 
conditions,  have  intensely  excited  her,  is  certainly  very 
striking.  "  I  must  work  the  work  that  is  given  me  to 
do,  and  how  is  my  soul  straitened  until  it  be  accom- 
plished," was  unquestionably  her  feeling,  as  it  was 


STILL  ON   THE   CONTINENT.  297 

equally  the  feeling  of  John  Howard.  Like  him,  she 
stood  resolutely  on  her  guard  against  the  intrusion  of 
all  side  issues,  however  fascinating.  Embarked  on  a 
mission  of  mercy,  her  limited  store  of  strength  must 
be  wholly  consecrated  to  that.  And  yet  those  who  in 
later  years  listened  to  her,  on  those  rare  occasions  on 
which  she  talked  of  her  travels,  said  that  her  eyes 
seemed  to  have  been  ever  on  the  alert  and  to  have 
taken  in  everything. 

To  MRS.  WILLIAM  RATHBONE. 

"  PIRAEUS,  GREECE,  April  2,  1856. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  steamer  which  came 
around  the  Peloponnesus.  I  came  by  the  Isthmus  that  I 
might  land  at  Ancona  and  the  Ionian  Islands  to  see  the 
hospitals.  I  reached  Athens  at  dark  last  night ;  left  at  noon 
to  resume  my  sea  voyage.  The  weather  is  intensely  cold. 
Mt.  Parnassus  is  as  white  as  Mt.  Blanc.  .  .  .  This  hour  ar- 
rives a  French  steamer  with  the  blessed  news  of  Peace.1 
....  We  give  devout  thanks  that  the  hours  of  warfare 
are  ended,  but  how  long  it  must  be  before  the  wounds  which 
have  been  inflicted  on  social  and  domestic  happiness  are 
healed  or  forgotten.  ...  I  hoped  after  crossing  the  Isthmus 
to  visit  Corinth,  but  the  captain  would  not  consent  to  my 
leaving  the  protection  of  the  powerful  guard  of  one  hundred 
soldiers,  which  surrounded  the  transport  carriages.  As  the 
danger  was  shown  to  be  real,  I  readily  gave  up  my  previous 
wish.  A  fierce  band  of  robbers  attacked  the  carriage  twenty 
days  since,  and  succeeded  in  getting  all  the  luggage  and 
money,  of  which  a  large  sum  was  being  conveyed  for  paying 
the  soldiers  at  Athens.  So  in  each  carriage  sat  an  armed 
soldier,  while  at  the  side,  in  close  file,  rode  a  bodyguard  who 
looked  quite  able  to  protect  a  much  more  valuable  company. 
By  way  of  adding  interest  to  the  scene,  videttes  were  gal- 

1  The  end  of  the  Crimean  War. 


298  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

loping  hither  and  thither,  and  hidden  in  the  bushes  at  inter- 
vals were  parties  of  soldiers.  And  yet  these  precautions 
are  declared  to  be  necessary  for  ordinary  security.  ...  I 
have  no  idea  how  long  I  shall  be  in  Constantinople,  but 
everywhere  I  hear  the  most  sad  accounts  of  the  insane 
there,  on  all  the  islands,  and  in  Asia  Minor.  I  see  if  I  can 
only  secure  something  for  Constantinople,  it  is  all  I  ought 
to  attempt,  and  of  that  I  am  not  sanguine  at  all.  I  feel 
that  Miss  Nightingale  will  have  a  great  work  still  in  the 
East.  God  bless  her  efforts  !  " 

By  April  10,  Miss  Dix  had  reached  Constantinople, 
and  in  a  letter  of  that  date  gives  her  first  impressions 
on  landing. 

To  MBS.  WILLIAM  RATHBONE. 

"  CONSTANTINOPLE,  April  10,  1856. 

"  I  made  most  of  the  landings  en  route.  At  Smyrna  I 
found  a  good  English  hospital  for  sailors,  and  also  one  for 
the  Dutch  and  Greeks.  I  found  my  way  to  these  by  no- 
ticing the  flagstaffs  before  landing,  and  on  the  way  visit- 
ed several  Greek  and  Armenian  churches  and  the  chief 
mosque.  .  .  .  The  officers  on  the  steamship  were  civil. 
My  only  associates  were  two  physicians,  —  one  an  Italian 
belonging  to  the  ship,  the  other  an  Austrian  from  Vienna, 
highly  educated,  and  of  most  benevolent  disposition.  He 
was  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  to  execute  the  will  of  a  lady 
in  Vienna,  who  had  given  50,000  florins  to  establish  a 
school  for  poor  children  in  the  Holy  City. 

"  Taking  a  boat,  I  was  rowed  to  a  landing  at  Pera,  or 
rather  Galata,  and  toiled  over  or  through  streets  that  seemed 
only  opened  to  serve  as  public  drains.  .  .  .  After  breakfast, 
I  stepped  into  a  caique  with  two  rowers,  —  speaking  the 
words  <  Hospital !  Scutari ! '  —  and  in  half  an  hour  landed 
at  the  wharf  of  upper  Scutari.  I  paid  and  discharged  the 
boatmen,  and,  inquiring  of  an  English  sailor  the  way  to  the 
nurse's  quarter,  proceeded  thither.  Miss  Nightingale  was 


STILL   ON   THE   CONTINENT.  299 

absent,  having  been  a  month  at  Balaklava,  where  there  is 
much  sickness  of  the  English  and  French  troops.  I  went 
over  the  chief  hospital,  which  was  in  excellent  order,  and 
chiefly  filled  with  convalescents.  There  was  another  large 
establishment,  but  I  could  not  walk  to  and  over  it,  for  by 
this  time  my  feet  had  become  too  painful  to  allow  of  further 
exercise.  I  shall  proceed  to  see  the  hospitals  for  the  insane 
as  soon  as  possible.  Meanwhile,  I  do  not  allow  my  hopes 
to  rise.  ...  I  see  the  first  difficulty  is  the  want  of  persons 
to  execute  the  trusts  of  an  institution.  But  time  must 
show." 

As  it  was  with  sad  forebodings  of  finding  in  Con- 
stantinople a  state  of  unexampled  neglect  and  misery 
in  the  condition  of  the  insane,  that  Miss  Dix  had  jour- 
neyed there,  it  is  cheering  in  her  next  letter  to  read 
how  happily,  in  some  instances  at  least,  she  was  on 
personal  inspection  undeceived.  The  visit  occurred 
shortly  after  the  close  of  the  Crimean  War.  It  had 
been  her  ardent  desire  to  come  into  intimate  relations 
with  Miss  Florence  Nightingale,  then  completing  her 
work  of  mercy  in  the  East.  But  neither  in  Constan- 
tinople, nor  later,  on  the  return  to  England,  was  it 
granted  to  those  two  kindred  spirits  to  see  one  an- 
other face  to  face. 

To  MBS.  WILLIAM  RATHBOXE. 

"  CONSTANTINOPLE,  April  29, 1856. 

"  I  was  greatly  surprised  and  much  gratified  to  find  in 
Constantinople  a  very  well  directed  hospital  for  the  insane 
in  the  Turkish  quarter,  and  I  failed  to  discover  in  either 
Stamboul  or  its  suburbs  any  examples  of  abuse  and  barbar- 
ous usage  of  this  class,  so  I  proceeded  to  the  Greek  and 
Armenian-Christian  hospitals,  in  which,  I  regret  to  say,  I 
found  very  mistaken  supervision  of  all  the  patients,  —  chains, 
neglect,  and  absence  of  all  curative  treatment. 


300  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

"  I  think  the  means  I  took  for  the  remedy  of  these 
abuses  will  avail  to  correct  them  generally  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Turkish  Capital,  but  in  the  provinces  I  apprehend  that 
great  evils  will  long  exist.  .  .  .  The  insane  of  Constantino- 
ple are  in  a  far  better  condition  than  those  of  Rome  or 
Trieste,  and  in  some  respects  better  cared  for  than  in  Tu- 
rin, Milan,  or  Ancona.  All  the  patients  were  Turks,  fifty- 
two  men,  twenty  women,  eighteen  servants  and  attendants, 
three  physicians,  one  resident  director,  and  night  watchmen. 
The  hospital  was  founded  by  Solyman,  the  Magnificent,  and 
the  provisions  for  the  comfort  and  pleasure  of  the  patients, 
including  music,  quite  astonished  me.  The  superintendent 
proposes  improvements.  I  had  substantially  little  to  sug- 
gest, and  nothing  to  urge  ! ! ! 

"D.  L.  D." 

All  that  remains  in  Miss  Dix's  handwriting  in  the 
way  of  narrative  of  her  visit  to  Constantinople  has  now 
been  given.  It  is  a  satisfaction,  however,  to  be  able 
to  supplement  her  own  too  meagre  account  with  the 
personal  recollections  of  this  now  far-away  time,  em- 
braced in  a  letter  to  her  biographer  from  Dr.  Cyrus 
Hamlin,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  then  President  of  Robert  Col- 
lege, Constantinople. 

•'  LEXINGTON,  MASSACHUSETTS.  August  7,  1889. 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  I  have  found  nothing  of  my  valued 
correspondence  with  Miss  Dix  in  1856  and  at  other  times. 
I  can  therefore  only  give  you  my  impressions  of  her  and 
her  work.  She  remained  a  part  of  the  time  a  welcome 
guest  in  my  house  during  her  visit  to  Constantinople,  in  1856- 
My  residence  was  too  far  from  the  great  city  to  make  it  al- 
ways convenient,  but  she  came  and  went  at  pleasure.  She 
had  two  objects  in  view,  the  hospitals  and  prisons.  To  these 
she  seemed  wholly  devoted,  although  her  conversation  and 
her  interest  embraced  a  vast  variety  of  subjects.  She  had 


STILL   ON   THE   CONTINENT.  301 

traveled  extensively,  knew  very  well  the  official  world  and 
its  peculiarities,  and  was  acquainted  with  '  men  and  things.' 
She  often  entertained  us  with  the  peculiarities  of  certain  of- 
ficials with  whom  her  work  led  her  to  have  intercourse. 
/  "  The  most  annoying  to  her  were  the  indifferent.  The 
least  annoying  were  the  gruff.  She  could  generally  come 
round  that.  But  the  excessively  polite  she  had  learned  to 
fear.  Her  criticisms  were  always  in  a  kindly  spirit,  and 
she  clearly  saw  the  humorous  as  well  as  the  sorrowful  in  hu- 
\  man  life. 

"  She  visited,  I  think,  all  the  prisons  and  hospitals  of  the 
great  city.  These  are  very  numerous,  as  every  nationality, 
the  Armenians,  Greeks,  Catholic-Armenians,  and  Turks, 
has  its  own.  I  obtained  admission  for  her  to  the  great 
Greek  hospital  of  Ballocli,  under  very  favorable  circumstan- 
ces. She  was  treated  very  politely.  Also  in  the  great  Ar- 
menian hospital.  In  both  these  she  found  departments  for 
the  insane,  with  the  management  of  which  she  was  not 
pleased.  The  English  prison  called  forth  the  severest  criti- 
cism. Dr.  Hayland,  who  had  the  medical  care,  was  not 
pleased  with  her  intrusion.  She  thought  to  find  it  the  best, 
and  she  pronounced  it  the  worst. 

"  I  think  with  the  exception  of  the  Turkish  penal  prison, 
the  Bagnio,  she  gained  access  to  all  the  institutions  she 
wished  to  visit.  The  Turkish  debtors'  prison  she  found 
nauseous  for  filth  and  want  of  ventilation.  ( But  her  great 
surprise  was  the  Turkish  insane  hospital.  The  treatment 
of  the  Turkish  insane  was  once  one  of  the  horrors  of  Con- 
stantinople. Travelers  generally  tried  their  rhetoric  upon 
it  without  any  aid  but  their  imaginations.  Miss  Dix  had 
read  these  high-wrought  descriptions  of  expelling  the  devils 
of  insanity  by  alternate  tortures  and  generous  treatment, 
and  was  prepared  for  anything. 

**  She  found,  instead,  order,  cleanliness,  light,  ventilation, 
clothing,  diet,  which  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Employ- 
ments also  and  diversions  were  equally  admirable.  She 
came  home  at  night  joyful.  She  said  '  I  have  found  one 


302  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

institution  in  Constantinople  the  very  best,  where  I  thought 
to  find  the  very  worst.' 

"  The  explanation  is  this :  A  young  Turk  of  wealth  and 
station  was  educated  at  Paris.  While  there,  he  became  in- 
terested in  the  famous  French  Hospital  for  the  Insane.  He 
studied  the  system.  He  was  admitted  into  every  part  of 
the  great  establishment,  and  was  kindly  aided  to  prepare 
himself  for  what  he  felt  to  be  his  '  mission,'  to  establish  the 
like  for  his  own  people.  This  is  the  only  instance  I  have 
known  of  a  young  Turk's  preparing  himself  for  usefulness 
by  a  Parisian  education.  In  every  case  she  addressed  a 
communication  to  the  heads  and  managers  of  the  institu- 
tions, pointing  out  what  seemed  to  her  desirable  changes, 
and  giving  them  reports  and  pamphlets  containing  much 
useful  information  for  their  consideration. 

"  Miss  Dix  made  the  impression  at  Constantinople  of  a 
person  of  culture,  judgment,  self-possession,  absolute  fearless- 
ness in  the  path  of  duty,  and  yet  a  woman  of  refinement 
and  true  Christian  philanthrophy.  I  remember  her  with 
the  profoundest  respect  and  admiration,  and  regret  that  all 
my  correspondence  with  her  is  lost.  She  was  equally  wor- 
thy with  Elizabeth  Fry  to  be  called  the  '  female  Howard.' 
"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"CYRUS  HAMLIN." 

On  leaving  Constantinople,  Miss  Dix  took  passage 
up  the  Danube  to  Pesth  and  Vienna.  It  is  while  the 
steamer,  "  Franz  Joseph,"  is  making  a  landing  in  As- 
sora,  Hungary,  that  she  writes  the  following  letter  to 
her  friend  Miss  Heath :  — 

"  ASSOKA,  HUNGARY,  May  9, 1856. 

"  MY  DEAR  ANNIE, —  Look  on  your  map  of  Europe,  and 
you  may  trace  my  route  from  Venice,  whence  I  last  wrote, 
to  Trieste,  Ancona,  Molfetta,  Brindisi,  Corfu,  Cephalonia, 
Zante,  Patras,  Missolonghi,  Mycense,  Corinth,  Piraeus, 
Athens,  Syra,  Teos,  Sangras,  Mytilene,  Gallipoli,  Marmora, 
Constantinople,  Bosphorus,  Varna,  Saluna,  mouth  of  the 


STILL   ON  THE   CONTINENT.  303 

Danube,  Galatz,  Balaka,  Assora,  whence  the  boat  is  bound 
up  this  grand  river  to  Pesth  and  Vienna.  Why  I  have 
made  this  long  route  would  now  occupy  too  much  time  to 
relate,  but  I  hope  to  meet  you  face  to  face,  and  speak  of 
these  and  many  more  subjects. 

"  I  have  the  strong  hope  that  I  shall  not  need  to  return 
to  Rome,  for  a  letter  received  from  my  banker  there  ac- 
quainted me  that  the  Pope  has  listened  to  my  remonstrance 
and  intercession,  and  restored  Dr.  Guildini  to  the  charge  of 
the  hospital,  which  augurs  well  for  the  residue  of  my  peti- 
tion, and  the  fulfillment  of  the  distinct  assurances  I  received 
before  I  left  Rome.  I  have  as  far  as  at  present  practicable 
effected  the  objects  of  my  visit  to  Constantinople,  but  it 
has  opened  to  me  work  for  the  future.  So  far  as  the  Chris- 
tian hospitals  are  concerned,  those  of  the  Mahometans  are 
better,  to  my  great  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  see  anything  to  hinder  my  embarking  for  the 
United  States  within  three  months.  I  am  likely  to  be  at 
Vienna  two  or  three  weeks,  for  the  Government  has  very 
courteously  given  me  beforehand  the  entre'e  of  the  prisons 
and  the  hospitals,  and  if  I  do  not  see  much  to  mend,  I  may 
discover  something  to  copy  for  application  at  home. 

"  I  find  traveling  here  alone  no  more  difficult  than  I 
should  do  in  any  part  of  America.  My  usual  experience 
attends  me.  People  are  civil  and  obliging,  who  are  treated 
civilly.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  obliged  to  write  a  book,  a  sort 
of  narration  of  what  I  have  seen  during  my  long  absence. 
I  am  the  sole  representative  of  England  and  America  on  the 
boat.  There  are,  besides,  people  of  many  tribes,  and  persons 
of  far  distant  English  possessions,  affording  a  singular  asso- 
ciation of  oriental  costumes  and  occidental  attire.  As  for 
speech,  Babel  is  not  illy  illustrated.  You  will  wonder  that 
I  give  so  meagre  descriptions  of  persons  and  places,  but  if 
one  is  busy  in  examining,  while  pausing  for  a  few  days  or 
hours  in  a  city,  there  is  little  time  for  putting  on  paper  in  an 
interesting  manner  details  worth  sending  so  far. 

"  I  have  resisted  the  very  great  temptation  of  going  to 


304  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Palestine,  which  I  desired  more  than  anything  besides,  be- 
cause I  could  not  afford  the  expense,  though  only  twelve 
days  distant  from  Jerusalem.  All  my  life  I  have  wished  to 
visit  the  Holy  City  and  the  sacred  places  of  Syria.  As  yet, 
I  have  confined  my  journeys  to  those  places  where  hospitals, 
or  the  want  of  them,  have  called  me.  I  trust  my  observa- 
tions may  be  applied  to  some  good  uses. 

"  The  impression  of  the  loss  of  the  *  Arctic  '  is  painfully 
fresh  in  my  recollection.  I  do  not  fear  at  sea,  but  I  never 
for  an  hour  forget  the  vicinity  or  the  presence  of  danger,  and, 
in  the  event  of  accident,  the  almost  certain  loss  of  life.  To 
be  ready  is  the  lesson  we  should  learn,  so  that  if  the  call  be 
heard  on  the  sea  or  the  land,  by  day  or  by  night,  we  may 
be  glad  to  go  home,  where  our  limited  capacities  may  more 
fully  expand,  and  immortality  perfect  what  time  has  rightly 
planted." 

Little  more  is  left  to  record  than  the  bare  fact  that, 
after  completing  her  examination  of  the  hospitals  of 
Austria,  and  while  in  Vienna,  pressing  the  subject  of 
the  promised  new  asylum  in  Dalmatia,  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  the  Adriatic,  Miss  Dix  visited  successively 
Russia,  Sweden,  Norway,  Denmark,  Holland,  Belgium, 
and  a  part  of  Germany,  returning  by  way  of  France 
to  England.  Day  by  day,  she  patiently  explored  the 
asylums,  prisons,  and  poorhouses  of  every  place  in 
which  she  set  her  foot,  glad  to  her  heart's  core  when 
she  found  anything  to  commend  and  learn  a  lesson 
from,  and  patiently  striving,  wherever  she  struck  the 
traces  of  ignorance,  neglect,  or  wrong,  to  right  the 
evil  by  direct  appeal  to  the  highest  authorities,  and 
by  the  distribution  of  books  and  reports,  embodying 
clear  information  as  to  the  best  methods  of  hospital 
or  prison  construction  and  modes  of  treatment.  How 
much  she  thus  effected  in  the  way  of  correcting  abuses 


STILL   ON  THE   CONTINENT.  305 

and  stimulating  the  minds  of  earnest  workers  for  hu- 
manity, will  be  known  only  when  the  secrets  of  all 
hearts  are  revealed.  Of  the  strength,  however,  of  the 
impression  produced  by  this  quiet,  sweet-voiced,  yet 
strangely  authoritative  woman  who  had  come  from  a 
land  thousands  of  miles  across  the  sea,  and  whose 
unerring  eye  and  immense  experience  enabled  her  at 
a  glance  to  see  just  where  to  praise  and  where  merci- 
fully to  blame,  something  may  perhaps  be  judged  from 
a  single  chance  instance,  revealing  the  memory  she 
left  behind  her  in  Prague,  Bohemia. 

Ten  years  after  her  return  to  America,  there  was 
sent  her  a  large  box  of  highly-polished  wood,  inlaid 
with  the  metallic  inscription  on  the  top  "  To  Miss  D. 
L.  D.  From  the  American  Club  of  Bohemian  La- 
dies." The  club  consisted  of  "ladies  interested  in 
the  condition  and  elevation  of  the  women  of  Bohemia, 
of  the  poorer  classes,  or  wherever  a  good  deed  can 
help  a  human  being."  Inside  the  box  were  a  brief 
biography  of  Miss  Dix  in  the  Bohemian  language, 
translations  of  Bohemian  poems  by  Professor  Wratis- 
law,  of  Christ's  College,  Cambridge,  England,  an  illus- 
trated quarto  of  Bohemian  National  Songs,  an  album 
of  views  of  historical  interest,  and  another  of  photo- 
graphs of  distinguished  Bohemian  women,  statesmen, 
soldiers,  etc.,  the  last  bearing  an  inscription  on  ivory, 
'"  To  Miss  D.  L.  Dix,  this  album  is  dedicated  as  a 
token  of  the  affection  and  admiration  of  the  Bohemian 
Ladies'  American  Club,  Prague,  1868." 

One  sure  result  of  these  arduous  journeys  and  pa- 
tient explorations  lay  in  the  fact  that  now  Miss  Dix 
had  put  herself  abreast  with  the  worst  and  the  best 
Europe  had  to  show  on  the  subject  that  engrossed  her 
mind,  and  had  come  into  direct  personal  contact  with 


306  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

the  ablest  authorities  on  insanity  in  their  respective 
countries.  That  she  was  often  cheered  as  well  as 
depressed  by  what  she  saw,  is  clear  from  the  only 
additional  note  in  her  own  handwriting  that  still  re- 
mains :  — 

"  In  Russia  I  saw  much  to  approve  and  appreciate.  As 
for  the  insane  in  the  hospitals  in  St.  Petersburg  and  at  Mos- 
cow, I  really  had  nothing  to  ask.  Every  comfort  and  all 
needed  care  were  possessed,  and  much  recreation  secured, 
—  very  little  restraint  was  used.  Considering  I  do  not 
speak  the  language,  I  get  on  wonderfully  well,  and  see  all 
that  time  allows." 

Thus,  then,  was  completed  this  long  and  detailed 
"  circumnavigation  of  charity."  Alike  in  its  motive, 
and  in  the  fidelity  with  which  it  was  executed,  how 
literally  it  recalls  the  often  quoted,  but  never  hack- 
neyed words  of  the  tribute  of  Edmund  Burke  to 
Howard,  the  philanthropist :  — 

"  He  has  visited  all  Europe,  —  not  to  survey  the  sumptu- 
ousness  of  palaces,  or  the  stateliness  of  temples  ;  not  to 
make  accurate  measurements  of  the  remains  of  ancient 
grandeur ;  not  to  form  a  scale  of  the  curiosity  of  modern 
art ;  not  to  collect  medals,  or  collate  manuscripts  ;  —  but  to 
dive  into  the  depths  of  dungeons  ;  to  plunge  into  the  infec- 
tion of  hospitals ;  to  survey  the  mansions  of  sorrow  and 
pain  ;  to  take  the  gauge  and  dimensions  of  misery,  depres- 
sion, and  contempt ;  to  remember  the  forgotten,  to  attend 
to  the  neglected,  to  visit  the  forsaken,  and  to  compare  and 
collate  the  distresses  of  all  men  in  all  countries.  His  plan 
is  original ;  and  it  is  as  full  of  genius  as  it  is  of  humanity. 
It  was  a  voyage  of  discovery  ;  a  circumnavigation  of 
charity." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AT  HOME  AND  AT  WORK  AGAIN. 

SEPTEMBER  16, 1856,  Miss  Dix  set  sail  from  Liver- 
pool to  New  York  on  the  steamship  "  Baltic."  Two  full 
years  had  now  gone  by  since  she  had  set  foot  on  Eng- 
lish soil,  then  seeking  recuperation  from  the  exhaust- 
ing labors  of  her  previous  fourteen  years,  and  from 
the  overwhelming  blow  of  the  veto  of  her  12,225,000 
Acre  Bill.  Of  the  dreamy,  lotus-eating  way  in  which, 
during  the  intervening  time,  she  had  surrendered  her 
tired  body  and  mind  to  the  luxury  of  rest,  enough  has 
been  detailed  in  previous  chapters.  It  remains  only 
to  give  an  instance  or  two  of  the  spirit  of  congratula- 
tion and  blessing  that  now  found  vent  in  farewell 
words  from  English  friends.  No  more  touching  illus- 
tration of  this  can  be  presented  than  the  following 
brief  good -by  letters  from  Dr.  D.  Hack  Tuke,  and 
from  the  venerable  Dr.  John  Conolly,  —  the  peer,  per- 
haps in  the  history  of  insanity,  of  Pinel  and  Samuel 
Tuke : — 

"  YORK,  ENGLAND,  September  14,  1856. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  have  pretty  much  given  up 
the  pleasing  illusion  of  seeing  you  before  sailing.  ...  I  am 
inclined  to  envy  you  the  feelings  which  you  must  have  in 
the  retrospect  of  what  you  have  been  enabled  to  do  since 
you  set  foot  on  British  land.  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  day 
will  come  when  many,  very  many,  will  rise  up  to  call  you, 
Blessed.  Blessed  to  them,  who,  until  they  have  been  re- 
lieved from  their  bodily  infirmities,  cannot  thank  you  for 


308  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

all  you  have  done,  and  the  yet  more  you  have  longed  to  be 
able  to  do,  for  them. 

"  Your  truly  attached  friend, 

"  DANIEL  H.  TUKE." 

"HANWELL,  ENGLAND,  August  19,  1856. 
"  MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  ...  Your  words  of  approba- 
tion, dear  Miss  Dix,  are  very  precious  to  me  ;  for  I  honor 
you  and  your  great  labors  for  the  benefit  of  your  fellow- 
creatures  in  many  ways.  .  .  .  God  bless  you,  my  dear  lady. 
I  trust  that  there  are  regions  where,  after  this  world,  all 
will  be  more  congenial  to  such  spirits,  and  to  those  who 
sympathize  with  you,  and  share  your  good  and  noble  aspi- 
rations. Ever  faithfully  yours, 

"  J.    CONOLLY." 

Happily,  the  home  voyage  proved  continuously 
smooth  and  sunny.  The  one  only  trace  of  physical 
fear  that  can  be  detected  in  Miss  Dix's  courageous  na- 
ture was  fear  of  the  sea.  Embarked  on  it,  she  con- 
fessed herself  always  haunted  with  an  undefined 
sense  of  apprehension.  In  the  loss,  on  the  return 
voyage,  of  the  "  Arctic,"  —  the  ship  on  which  she 
herself  had  crossed  over  to  England,  —  several  dear 
friends  had  perished,  and  the  shock  of  this  had  added 
to  the  constitutional  feeling  of  dread  with  which  she 
had  always  regarded  the  Atlantic.  This  time,  how- 
ever, all  went  so  prosperously  that  she  was  able  at  the 
very  close  of  the  voyage  to  write  back  to  England : 
"  We  are  still  getting  on  well,  and  already  land  birds 
come  to  the  vessel  for  food  and  rest.  They  are  very 
familiar,  and  eat  from  our  hands.  One  came  into  the 
open  window  near  me  while  at  dinner  to-day,  rested 
on  the  table  by  the  captain's  plate,  picked  up  some 
crumbs,  and,  finally  satisfied,  flew  away,  —  perhaps  for 
the  distant  land,  fifty  miles  off." 


AT  HOME  AND  AT   WORK  AGAIN.  309 

From  the  insistent  urgency  of  the  appeals  for  re- 
newed work  which,  from  various  quarters  of  the 
United  States  and  of  Canada,  forthwith  greeted  Miss 
Dix  on  her  return  to  her  native  land,  one  can  only 
wonder  that  the  birds,  of  which  she  so  tenderly  speaks 
as  alighting  on  the  table  of  the  "  Baltic  "  to  pick  up 
crumbs,  were  not  in  reality  seriously-minded  carrier- 
pigeons,  each  with  a  momentous  little  billet  under  its 
wing  from  Halifax,  or  Nashville,  or  Columbia,  ad- 
dressed "  D.  L.  D.  Immediate  Delivery."  All  were 
of  one  tenor  :  we  need  fresh  extensions,  we  must  have 
another  hospital  in  another  part  of  the  State,  we  must 
get  large  appropriations  this  coming  winter,  every- 
thing missteers  when  your  hand  is  off  the  helm. 

In  exact  contrast  with  all  this,  it  had  been  the  hope 
of  many  of  Miss  Dix's  old  asylum  friends  that  she 
would  now  be  able  to  devote  herself  to  writing  a  book, 
in  which  she  should  carefully  digest  the  results  of  her 
immense  range  of  observation  in  Europe  and  in  the 
East.  But  she  was  then  fifty-four  years  old,  and  the 
habits  of  a  lifetime  are  not  to  be  altered.  Her  whole 
soul  was  bent  now  on  fruitfully  applying  what  she  had 
seen  and  learned  to  the  actual  needs  of  the  present, 
rather  than  on  sitting  quietly  down  to  formulate  gene- 
ral principles. 

Indeed,  it  becomes  ever  clearer  as  Miss  Dix's  work 
is  carefully  studied  into,  that,  in  the  actual  founding 
of  the  many  asylums  she  so  fondly  called  her  children, 
her  labors  were  destined  to  bear  about  the  same  pro- 
portional relation  to  the  coming  toils  demanded  for 
their  extension  and  full  development,  as  does  the 
travail  of  the  actual  mother  in  bringing  her  little  ones 
into  the  world,  to  the  subsequent  nursing,  training, 
watching  over,  and  educating  them,  till  they  shall 


310  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

have  reached  the  full  estate  of  manhood  or  woman- 
hood. 

A  great  feat  it  no  doubt  was  to  carry  a  bill  for  the 
establishment  of  a  new  asylum  through  a  State  legis- 
lature. And  yet  here  lay  but  the  first  triumph  over 
ignorance  and  apathy.  To  get  the  institution  well 
manned  ;  to  help  the  asylum  to  endear  itself  to  the 
community  through  the  cures  effected,  or  the  chronic 
misery  relieved ;  to  raise  up  friends  for  it  who  would 
always  bear  in  mind  its  first  estate  of  bareness  and 
destitution,  and  try  to  make  it  homelike  and  supply  it 
with  means  for  industrial  occupation  and  amusement ; 
to  get  ready  for  the  day  of  needed  enlargement ;  all 
these  cares  and  anxieties  the  fond  and  thoughtful 
asylum-mother  bore  perpetually  on  her  mind. 

In  truth,  it  was  with  a  literal  "  godly  jealousy  "  that 
she  watched  over  these  young  institutions,  yearning 
to  see  the  physicians  and  attendants  a  consecrated 
band,  martyrs,  if  need  be,  in  a  sacred  cause.  On 
them,  she  felt  it  rested  to  win  for  the  cause  full  rev- 
erence and  support.  Never  sparing  herself,  the  ideal 
of  absolute  devotion  she  illustrated  in  action,  far  more 
than  preached  by  word,  is  touchingly  shown  in  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  a  letter  written  her,  so  late  as  the 
advanced  age  of  seventy-one,  by  Dr.  J.  M.  Cleaveland 
of  the  Hudson  Kiver  State  Hospital :  — 

"Your  devotion  to  duty  in  starting  off  in  that  pitiless 
Monday's  storm  touched  all  our  hearts.  The  lesson  it  in- 
culcated was  more  than  a  chapter  of  moral  maxims,  and  I 
hope  we  may  never  forget  it." 


No,  she  could  not  stop  to  write  a  book.     The  cry 
from  so  many  quarters,  "  Come   over  and  help  us ! ' 
was  too   loud   and   continuous.       Accordingly,   it   is 


AT  HOME  AND  AT    WORK  AGAIN.  311 

simply  what  was  to  be  •  expected,  to  find  her  before 
the  close  of  the  year  writing  from  as  far  north  as 
Toronto,  Canada  West :  — 

"  It  is  truly  sorrowful  to  find  so  much  suffering  through 
neglect,  ignorance,  and  mismanagement,  but  I  hope  for 
better  things  at  no  distant  time.  The  weather  has  been 
severe  and  stormy,  but  in  proportion  as  my  own  discomforts 
have  increased,  my  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  search 
into  the  wants  of  the  friendless  and  afflicted  has  deepened. 
If  I  am  cold,  they  are  cold  ;  if  I  am  weary,  they  are  dis- 
tressed ;  if  I  am  alone,  they  are  abandoned." 

There  now  lay  before  Miss  Dix,  —  until  the  break- 
ing out  in  1861  of  the  great  Civil  War  which  impera- 
tively turned  her  energies  in  a  new  direction,  —  more 
than  four  years  of  unremitting  activity.  They  were 
the  years  of  her  life  marked  by  obtaining  larger 
appropriations  of  money,  for  purely  benevolent  pur- 
poses, than,  probably,  it  was  ever  given  to  any  other 
mortal  in  the  old  world  or  the  new  to  raise.  The 
United  States  has  earned  the  somewhat  dubious  fame 
of  being  "  the  land  of  millionaires,"  and  the  rivalry  is 
growing  ever  faster  and  more  furious  who  shall  pile 
up  the  most  fabulous  amount,  —  set  down  to  his  own 
private  credit.  Unquestionably,  under  this  last  pro- 
viso, Miss  Dix  must  humbly  yield  precedence  to  the 
Astors,  Vanderbilts,  Jay  Goulds,  and  others  of  the 
plutocratic  hierarchy.  None  the  less  will  the  faithful 
historian  have  to  record  the  fact  that  of  the  "  million- 
aires of  charity,"  she  easily  heads  the  list.  These 
were  the  years  of  the  enlargement  of  nearly  all  the 
asylums  she  had  founded,  as  well  as  the  years  marked 
by  the  foundation  of  a  number  of  new  ones. 

To  condense,  therefore,  the  narrative  of  this  period 
within  any  fairly  readable  limits,  there  is  but  one 


312  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

possible  course  to  pursue.  It  is  to  omit,  and  omit, 
and  omit.  All  that  can  be  done  in  this  and  the  suc- 
ceeding chapter  is  to  present  a  limited  selection  of 
letters  and  memoranda,  and  let  the  reader  multiply 
at  will  their  main  tenor. 

The  internal  history  of  the  personnel  of  a  great 
insane  asylum  is,  to  any  one  who  has  been  privileged 
to  read  so  immense  a  mass  of  correspondence  as  Miss 
Dix  left  behind  her,  one  of  the  most  curious,  baffling, 
and  often  tragic  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  From  the 
sheer  necessity  of  the  case,  the  feeling  of  a  superin- 
tendent and  of  his  assistant  physicians  must  often  be 
that  of  men  who  are  sleeping  over  a  powder  magazine. 
Outside  is  a  jealous  public  swift  to  conceive  dire  sus- 
picions. Inside  is  a  mass  of  disorganized  human 
nature,  the  prey  of  wild  hallucinations  and  shapes  of 
degraded  passion,  —  cunning,  deceitful,  and  unable  to 
distinguish  between  fact  and  fancy.  Pass  through 
the  wards,  and  forthwith  will  rational-seeming  men 
and  attractive  women  stop  you,  and  with  streaming 
eyes  begin  to  tell  you  such  stories  of  the  brutality  to 
which  they  have  been  subjected  by  the  violence  or 
sensuality  of  the  superintendent  —  a  man,  perhaps,  of 
the  elevation  of  character  and  consecration  of  life  of 
a  Bell,  Woodward,  or  Kirkbride,  —  as  would  for  a 
moment  stagger  the  faith  of  Abraham,  so  quietly, 
logically,  and  movingly  are  the  stories  told. 

Nor  is  this  all.  There  are,  besides,  scores  of  nurses 
and  attendants,  as  well  as  a  great  department,  some- 
times under  its  own  separate  head,  of  cooks,  scullions, 
and  workmen.  A  quotum  of  these  are  inevitably  per- 
sons of  ill-regulated  character.  Often  they  have  to 
be  discharged  for  unfaithfulness.  Then  comes  their 
day  of  revenge.  They  have  their  mates,  some  of  them 


AT  HOME  AND  AT    WORK  AGAIN.  313 

likewise  discontented.  How  easy,  then,  out  of  such  a 
storehouse  of  inflammable  material, 'to  start  a  story 
that  will  run  like  wildfire,  and  which  can  be  supported 
before  a  committee  of  investigation  by  the  evidence  of 
two  or  three,  perhaps  beautiful,  women,  who  tell  so 
circumstantially  their  piteous  story  and  are  so  heart- 
moving  in  their  appeal  for  redress,  that  the  reputation 
of  the  most  revered  superintendent  in  the  land  can 
hardly  hold  its  own  in  the  minds  of  the  directors  of 
his  own  institution.  Soon  the  outside  public  has  got 
hold  of  the  terrible  revelation  of  what  is  going  on 
behind  the  bars  of  the  asylum,  and  furious  factions 
are  formed,  as  deaf  to  the  voice  of  reason  as  any  of 
the  inmates  within. 

In  cases  like  the  above,  Miss  Dix  was  appealed  to 
again  and  again,  and  often  her  clear  judgment  and 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  workings  of  insanity  en- 
abled her  to  disabuse  the  minds  of  committees  who 
had  been  made  to  harbor  unjust  suspicions  of  the 
purest  and  most  devoted  men.  Though  her  decisions 
entailed  upon  her  much  abuse,  she  never  shrank  from 
doing  her  duty.  As  an  instance,  therefore,  of  her 
religiously-exalted  self-reliance  when  she  felt  herself 
to  be  in  the  right,  the  following  short  extract  from  a 
letter  to  her  friend,  Miss  Heath,  is  of  interest.  There 
had  been  trouble  in  the  internal  working  of  the  asylum 
in  Worcester,  Mass.,  a  conflict  of  authority  between 
matron  and  steward,  as  to  which  Miss  Dix,  on  appeal, 
had  taken  decided  ground.  The  two  belligerent  par- 
ties had  carried  their  grievance  to  the  outside  public 
of  Worcester,  one  faction  of  which  had  betaken  itself 
to  that  palladium  of  modern  liberties,  the  press,  and 
had  there  roundly  abused  Miss  Dix 


314  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

"March  24,  1857. 

"  MY  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  Do  not  take  too  much  to  heart 
that  which  mistaken  people  say  in  Worcester  ;  it  is  as  the 
weight  of  a  feather  to  me.  I  am  right,  what  harm  can 
these  do  me  ?  *  The  Lord  is  the  strength  of  my  life,  whom 
should  I  fear ;  the  Lord  is  my  defense  on  my  right  hand, 
of  whom  should  I  be  afraid  ? '  I  am  steadfast  in  His 
might." 

Six  months  later,  there  occurs  a  passage  in  a  letter 
to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  of  Liverpool,  throwing  light  on 
another  species  of  annoyance  with  which  Miss  Dix  was 
constantly  beset,  —  the  annoyance  too  familiarly  known 
in  the  TJnited  States  as  that  of  the  importunity  of  of- 
fice seekers.  For  years  had  she  been  exposed  to  it  in 
her  own  land,  but  now  the  reputation  she  had  gained 
in  Scotland,  and  the  number  of  desirable  positions  that 
would  be  opened  up  through  the  creation  of  new 
county  asylums,  had,  it  seemed,  acted  on  aspiring 
Scotch  medical  minds  very  much  as  it  would  have  on 
the  minds  of  the  brethren  in  America,  —  thus  demon- 
strating once  again  how  "  one  touch  of  nature  makes 
the  whole  world  kin." 

"  I  have  had  letters  from  abroad,"  she  now  writes, 
"  urging  me  to  commend  various  parties  to  official 
places  in  regard  to  the  insane.  I,  of  course,  decline 
such  interference,  considering  it  out  of  my  line  of  activ- 
ity." On  this  point,  at  least,  of  refusing,  even  on  local 
Scotch  solicitation,  to  reenact  the  now  popular  part  of 
"  The  American  Invader,"  Miss  Dix  was  inexorable. 
Meanwhile,  at  home,  her  power  of  patronage  was  con- 
stantly growing  larger  and  larger.  No  one  else  in  the 
country  —  and  that  at  the  appeal  of  high  public  offi- 
cials throughout  the  south  and  west  —  exercised  to 
such  an  extent  the  "  right  of  investiture,"  or  had  so 


AT  HOME  AND  AT    WORK  AGAIN.  315 

many  medical  "living's"  at  command.  But  no  man 
ever  helped  his  cause  by  personal  solicitation  of  her 
influence.  Her  own  sense  of  fitness  for  the  post  de- 
cided her  action,  and,  a  recommendation  given,  she 
sought  to,  have  it  kept  an  inviolable  secret.  So  strong, 
indeed,  was  this  feeling  with  her,  that,  —  as  personally 
told  to  the  writer  of  her  biography  by  Dr.  John  W. 
Ward,  of  Trenton,  N.  J.,  —  on  the  occasion  of  his 
learning  from  his  trustees  some  years  after  his  ap- 
pointment as  superintendent  that  he  owed  it  to  the 
emphatic  recommendation  of  Miss  Dix,  and  then  in- 
cautiously proceeding  to  thank  her,  she  turned  sharply 
on  him  and  denounced  it  as  a  betrayal  of  confidence 
that  he  had  ever  been  permitted  to  know  the  fact.  It 
is  easy  to  imagine  the  devoutness  of  the  exclamation, 
"  O  sancta  simplicitas  !  "  with  which  such  an  account 
would  be  read  by  the  average  American  Senator  or 
Member  of  the  House  of  Representatives. 

July  21,  1857,  finds  Miss  Dix  beginning  a  letter  in 
Cleveland,  O.,  to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  and  finishing  it  in 
Zelienople,  Penn.  An  entirely  new  asylum  to  be 
founded  near  Pittsburg,  an  institution  on  the  plan  of 
the  Rath  House  near  Hamburg,  Germany,  to  be  stud- 
ied, and  a  zealous  attempt  to  be  made  to  "  confer  a 
real  benefit  on  the  stagnant  life  "  of  a  dying  commu- 
nity by  affording  it  an  opportunity  to  contribute  to 
the  prospected  hospital,  are  here  the  visible  straws 
which  show  the  swift  and  strong  set  of  the  current. 

To  MBS.  RATHBONE. 

"CLEVELAND,  OHIO,  July  21,  1857. 

"  I  am  here  only  for  a  few  days,  and  proceed  to  Zelien- 
ople, and  thence  to  Pittsburg,  where  I  hope  to  complete 
what  I  have  begun  and  advanced  there.  I  have  induced  the 


316  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

managers  of  the  proposed  benevolent  Institution  to  sell  the 
farm  which  had  been  purchased,  and  which  is  not  well  situ- 
ated, and  take  a  magnificent  location  for  a  hospital  on  a  fine 
elevated  site  which  I  found  on  the  Ohio  River,  eight  miles 
from  Pittsburg,  and  which  is  both  salubrious  and  cheerful, 
joined  with  outlooks  of  rare  beauty  associated  with  some 
elements  of  grandeur. 

"  ZELIENOPLE,  PENN.,  August  10.  I  was  broken  off  from 
my  writing  more  than  a  fortnight  since.  Here  at  Zelienople, 
I  am  both  looking  for  a  farm  well  situated  and  well  watered, 
and  studying  an  Institution  having  chiefly  the  features  of 
the  celebrated  Rauhe  Hatis  at  Horn  near  Hamburg.  It  is 
a  new  Reformatory,  erected  by  a  noble-minded  clergyman 
of  the  German  Lutheran  persuasion,  —  one  of  those  men  of 
rare  power,  Fe'nelon-like  spirit,  and  Apostolic  self-sacrifice 
whom  we  occasionally  see  rising  up  to  show  the  astonished 
world  how  much  one  man  can  do  through  the  force  of 
moral  power  without  riches  save  the  riches  of  a  sanctified 
spirit.  .  .  . 

"  I  proceed  to-morrow  to  Economy,  hoping  to  secure  from 
the  followers  of  that  singular  man  Rapp,  the  Suabian  peas- 
ant, who  emigrated  with  his  family  to  the  United  States 
more  than  fifty  years  ago,  a  contribution  for  hospital  uses. 
.  .  .  The  large  wealth  accumulated  by  singular  skill  and 
industry,  before  the  death  of  their  leader  and  founder,  Rapp, 
is  stored  in  secret,  and  no  doubt  before  many  years  will 
escheat  to  the  Commonwealth.  They  have  no  longer  hopes 
or  expectations.  The  prophetic  declarations  of  their  Foun- 
der are  falsified,  and  now  a  handful  remain  where  once 
their  name  was  '  Legion.'  One  seeks  of  them  charities  as 
conferring  on  their  stagnant  life  a  real  benefit.  Lately 
they  gave  $500  to  the  new  hospital." 

The  above  quoted  extracts  must  suffice  for  furnish- 
ing glimpses  of  the  indefatigable  worker  in  1857. 
The  new  year  of  1858  may  well  enough  open  with  a 
letter  of  date,  Oneida,  N.  Y.,  January  25. 


AT  HOME  AND  AT    WORK  AGAIN.  317 

To  MRS.  RATHBONE. 

"  ONEIDA,  N.  Y.,  January  25,  1858. 

"  Snow  two  feet  deep,  thermometer  27°  below  zero,  gas- 
burners  easily  lighted  by  the  spark  transmitted  by  the  fin- 
ger. Thus  it  is  not  difficult  to  realize  the  severity  of  the 
cold  so  often  described  by  Arctic  voyagers.  Do  you  hear 
anything  of  Mrs.  Chisholm,  that  woman  of  transcendent 
worth  ?  I  have  often  wished  I  could  do  something  that 
would  show  her  how  much  good  hearts  in  this  Western 
world  appreciate  her  and  her  works.  How  is  Miss  Carpenter 
succeeding  ?  I  have  great  faith  that  the  school  and  disci- 
pline on  the  Ackbar  will  finally  succeed.  Our  work  of  Re- 
form seems  gigantic,  and  most'  discouraging  if  the  whole 
field  is  taken  at  once ;  but  if  each  does  his  or  her  part,  we 
may  hope  for  final  success.  .  .  . 

*'  I  saw  the  announcement  of  Father  Mathew's  death 
with  a  sense  of  thankfulness  that  the  good  man  was  released 
from  the  infirmities  which  have  so  increased  upon  him  as  to 
arrest  his  usefulness,  and  make  life  now  for  many  months  a 
burthen  and  a  source  of  anxiety  to  himself  and  friends. 
Blessed  be  his  memory  !  The  sudden  death  of  Hugh  Miller 
is  distressing  in  its  manner,  but  while  all  who  knew  and  ap- 
preciated him  will  regret  him  and  his  abridged  usefulness, 
they  will  feel  that  he  is  released  from  a  heavy  dispensation, 
viz.,  the  total  loss  of  his  reasoning  faculties,  a  danger  which 
I  fully  perceived  and  which  I  knew  he  dreaded  two  years 
since.  He  was  a  remarkable  man,  and  will  not  be  forgotten. 
"  Your  steadfast  friend,  D.  L.  Dix." 

This  last  letter  concludes  with  a  sympathetic  de- 
scription of  the  burial  of  a  dear  friend,  Rev.  Samuel 
Oilman,  D.  D.,  the  Unitarian  minister  of  Charleston, 
S.  C.,  a  man  characterized  by  such  sanctity  of  spirit 
that  his  funeral  services  were  reverentially  attended 
by  Catholic  priests,  Jewish  rabbis,  Episcopalian  rec- 
tors, and  Baptist,  Methodist,  and  Presbyterian  minis- 


318  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA    L.  DIX. 

ters.  Only  a  few  years  before  his  death,  Dr.  Oilman 
had  paid  Miss  Dix  the  two  lines  of  reverential  tribute, 
which  are  here  subjoined  :  — 

«  To  D.  L.  D." 

"  One  pain  alone  thy  visit  gives  —  our  shame 
To  live  so  far  beneath  thy  own  great  aim." 

Evidently  the  year  1859  was  a  very  congenial  and 
happy  one  to  the  subject  of  this  biography.  The  ear- 
lier part  of  it  was  spent  in  Texas.  In  that  far-away 
and  before  unvisited  section  of  the  Union,  where  nat- 
urally she  had  expected  to  find  herself  an  entire 
stranger,  she  was  overjoyed  at  the  cordiality  of  her 
reception. 

Very  pleasant  is  it,  therefore,  after  wading  through 
endless  files  of  letters  that  are  bare  itineraries  or  dis- 
cussions of  hospital  issues,  without  a  word  of  personal 
revelation,  to  light  upon  a  few  in  which  free  expres- 
sion is  given  to  the  natural  delight  in  manifestations 
of  outspoken  sympathy  and  admiration  which  must 
have  and  ought  to  have  yielded  keen  pleasure. 

The  first  of  these  letters  to  intimate  friends  in 
which  she  expresses  her  delight  in  the  exuberant  testi- 
monials of  kindliness  she  now  encountered,  is  to  Mrs. 
Hare,  of  Philadelphia,  and  bears  date,  Austin,  Texas, 
March  28,  1859.  In  it,  after  giving  a  vivid  account 
of  two  days  and  nights  of  staging  experience,  ex- 
hausting and  dangerous  to  a  high  degree,  she  goes 
on :  — 

"  You  ask,  perhaps,  how  I  occupied  myself  under  these 
adverse  circumstances.  Why,  meditated  how  poor,  sick, 
insane  people  were  to  live  in  being  transported  such  dis- 
tances over  such  roads !  I  am  thankful  I  have  come,  be- 
cause I  find  much  to  do,  and  people  take  me  by  the  hand  as  a 


AT  HOME  AND  AT   WORK  AGAIN.  319 

beloved  friend.  My  eyes  fill  with  tears  at  the  hourly  heart- 
warm  welcome,  the  confidence,  the  cordial  good-will,  and 
the  succession  of  incidents,  proving  that  I  do  in  very  truth 
dwell  in  the  hearts  of  my  countrymen.  I  am  so  astonished 
that  my  wishes  in  regard  to  Institutions,  my  opinions  touch- 
ing organization,  are  considered  definitive.  A  gentleman 
in  the  State  Service  said  to  me,  *  You  are  a  moral  autocrat ; 
you  speak  and  your  word  is  law.'  People  say,  *  O,  you  are 
no  stranger.  We  have  known  you  years  and  years.'  " 

A  second  letter  of  like  tenure  was  written  in  reply 
to  one  from  Mrs.  Samuel  Torrey,  who  had  addressed 
her  thus :  — 

"  I  have  been  desired  by  Mr.  Gannett  to  inform  you  that 
a  man  called  upon  him  a  few  days  ago,  and  put  into  his  hands 
$100  for  you  from  the  mother  of  a  shipwrecked  seaman  who 
had  been  saved  by  one  of  your  lifeboats  when  wrecked  off 
the  coast  of  Newfoundland.  Mr.  Gannett  questioned  the 
man,  but  could  not  elicit  any  information  respecting  the 
woman.  The  money  was  to  be  employed  to  assist  poor  sea- 
men." 

Miss  Dix's  reply  runs  as  follows  :  — 

"  BATON  ROUGE,  LOUISIANA,  April  7,  1859. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Mr.  Torrey  can  hold  the  S100 
on  interest  till  I  can  find  leisure  to  apply  it  advantageously. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  increase  its  amount  a  little  by  adding 
something  to  it  myself.  I  can  build  another  lifeboat  which 
I  want.  ...  I  have  been  needing  lifeboats  myself  in  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  last  month.  We  just  escaped  foundering. 
In  fact,  for  twenty-four  hours  the  captain  did  not  leave  his 
station  on  the  deck.  .  .  . 

"  In  Texas  everybody  was  kind,  obliging,  and  most  at- 
tentive. I  had  a  hundred  instances  that  filled  my  eyes  with 
tears.  I  did  not  imagine  anybody  would  know  me  there, 
but  on  the  contrary,  I  was  claimed  and  acknowledged  as  a 


320  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

dear  friend  in  such  wise  as  has  made  a  lasting  impression 
on  my  heart  and  mind.  I  was  taking  a  dinner  at  a  small 
public  house  on  a  wide,  lonely  prairie.  The  master  stood, 
with  the  stage  way-bill  in  his  hand,  reading  and  eyeing  me, 
I  thought,  because  I  was  the  only  lady  passenger,  but,  when 
I  drew  out  my  purse  to  pay  as  usual,  his  quick  expression 
was,  '  No,  no,  by  George  !  I  don't  take  money  from  you  ; 
why,  I  never  thought  I  should  see  you,  and  now  you  are  in 
my  house  !  You  have  done  good  to  everybody  for  years 
and  years.  Make  sure  now  there  's  a  home  for  you  in  every 
house  in  Texas.  Here,  wife,  this  is  Miss  Dix !  Shake 
hands,  and  call  the  children.' 

"  Don't  think  me  conceited  in  relating  this  incident.  It 
is  one  of  a  hundred  in  Texas,  one  of  a  thousand  this  winter 
all  through  the  South.  I  am  constantly  surprised  by  spon- 
taneous expressions  of  the  heartiest  good-will,  and  I  may 
well  be  careful  what  I  demand  for  hospitals,  etc.,  for  my 
work  is  unquestioned,  and  so  I  try  to  be  very  prudent  and 
watchful." 

Yet  another  letter,  to  her  friend  Miss  Heath,  written 
December'  8,  1859,  from  Columbia,  South  Carolina, 
bears  witness  to  the  same  enthusiastic  gratitude  testi- 
fied to  her  by  the  people  of  another  State. 

To  Miss  ANNIE  HEATH. 

"  I  arrived  here  Saturday  night  greeted  and  welcomed  on 
all  sides  by  private  friends  and  public  authorities.  I  have 
really  been  quite  astonished  at  the  public  expressions  of  wel- 
come. ...  I  am  very  happy  in  knowing  I  am  much  be- 
loved by  my  fellow-citizens  in  this  part  of  the  Union.  '  We 
will  prove  our  regard  for  you  by  our  acts  in  behalf  of  those 
for  whom  you  plead,'  said  a  Senator  who  spoke  as  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  body.  I  could  not  measure  half  the 
pleasant  words  uttered.  '  Our  State  will  always  welcome 
you  as  to  a  home,  and  so  will  we  at  our  firesides  among  the 
wives  and  children.'  '  Yes  !  yes  !  that  we  will,'  sounded 


AT  HOME  AND  AT   WORK  AGAIN.  321 

forth  spontaneously  from  all  who  were  present.  I  have 
sent  you  egotistical  lines,  Annie ;  keep  them  to  yourself." 

It  is  a  matter  for  congratulation  that  the  friend  to 

O 

whom  the  above  letter  was  addressed  did  not  "  keep 
these  lines  to  herself,"  but  carefully  put  them  away  in 
a  safe  place  from  which  some  day  they  should  emerge 
to  the  light  of  day.  Why  should  not  the  subject  of 
such  demonstrations  of  enthusiastic  love  openly  re- 
joice in  them  ?  Truly,  they  had  been  bought  with  a 
price.  But  a  few  days  before  this  hearty  reception  in 
the  hall  of  the  South  Carolina  House  of  Represen- 
tatives, she  had  written  from  New  Orleans :  — 

"I  have  traveled  ont  of  ninety-three  days  and  nights 
past  thirty-two  days  and  nights,  and  this  of  necessity,  so 
that  I  lie  down  now  and  sleep  any  hour  I  can,  to  make  up 
lost  time,  and  to-day  I  am  feeling  a  good  deal  refreshed. 
I  am  bound  from  this  place  to  Baton  Rouge,  and  thence  by 
land  to  Jackson,  La.,  next  to  Bayou  Sara,  to  Vicksburg  by 
river,  thence  by  railroad  to  Jackson,  Miss.,  after  that  to 
Memphis,  thence  to  St.  Louis,  thence  up  the  Missouri  to 
the  State  Hospital  at  Fulton,  returning  to  Jacksonville, 
111.,  and  to  Springfield  :  "  to  all  which  she  adds  from  Jack- 
son, Miss.,  "  So  far  as  I  can  see  a  favorable  impression  is 
made,  and  there  is  a  probability  that  I  shall  get  an  appro- 
priation of  $80,000.  I  ask  this  winter  in  different  States 
more  than  a  third  of  a  million." 

It  was  at  this  period  of  her  exacting  career  that  the 
new  invention  of  the  sleeping  car  —  that  "  sweet  ob- 
livious antidote  "  to  the  weary  leagues  of  American 
railway  travel  —  was  first  brought  into  practical  use. 
Naturally  enough  it  might  have  been  prophesied  that 
of  all  the  women  of  the  land  to  welcome  the  blessing, 
Miss  Dix,  who  had  sat  bolt  upright  through  such  an 
infinity  of  nights,  would  have  led  the  van.  Amusing 


322  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

is  it,  however,  in  this  present  year  of  1890,  to  read  her 
first  aghast  impressions  of  these  whirling  dormitories, 
and  to  see  how  strongly  they  shocked  that  delicate 
sense  of  feminine  propriety  which  was  so  marked  a 
characteristic  of  her  nature  :  — 

"Shall  be  here  [she  writes  Miss  Heath  from  Jackson, 
Miss.]  till  the  30th,  when  I  go  to  Columbia,  S.  C.,  a  journey 
of  three  days  and  three  nights.  I  saw  some  sleeping  cars. 
That  was  enough.  Nothing  would  induce  me  to  occupy  one 
of  them,  they  are  quite  detestable.  I  did  make  one  night's 
experiment  later,  between  Pittsburg  and  Cincinnati ;  that 
will  suffice  for  the  rest  of  life.  I  cannot  suppose  that  per- 
sons of  decent  habits,  especially  ladies,  will  occupy  them, 
unless  some  essential  changes  are  made  in  their  arrange- 
ments and  regulations." 

One  farther  letter  will  fitly  conclude  the  narration 
of  this  fruitful  year,  1859.  It  contains  the  fullest 
detailed  description  Miss  Dix  has  left  behind  of  any  of 
her  brilliant  dashes  of  energy  and  courage.  Written 
in  a  vein  of  humorous  enjoyment  of  the  scene,  it 
unconsciously  furnishes  a  striking  exhibition  of  that 
lightning-swift  dispatch  with  which  —  however  over- 
weighted with  other  cares  —  she  stood  ready  to  turn 
instantly  aside  to  right  a  wrong  appealing  from  any 
new  quarter. 

To  MKS.  WILLIAM  RATHBONE. 

"  Did  I  write  you  an  account  of  my  affair  with,  or  in 
connection  with,  some  kidnapped  Indians  ?  If  it  is  briefly 
recapitulated  no  harm  will  come,  but  you  must  have  thought 
it  singular,  at  least,  —  if  you  saw  the  New  York  papers,1  — 

1  Several  New  York  papers  had  given  highly  sensational  accounts 
of  the  attack  of  the  rescuing  party  as  led  by  Miss  Dix  in  person. 


AT  HOME  AND  AT    WORK  AGAIN.  323 

that  my  name  was  in  such  odd  juxtaposition  with  street  riots 
and  acts  of  violence  endangering  life. 

"  While  iii  Albany,  in  the  State  Library  last  month,  sev- 
eral persons  being  with  me  consulting  on  pending  questions, 
a  white  man  and  an  Indian  entered,  and  the  former  said, 
*  There  is  Miss  Dix  ;  come,  tell  her  your  story ! '  It  was 
this :  Near  Syracuse,  in  Central  New  York,  is  an  Indian 
settlement  of  five  hundred  souls.  A  company  of  circus 
riders  and  strolling  players,  visiting  Syracuse,  thought  it 
might  be  a  good  speculation  to  entice  some  of  the  Indians 
from  this  village  to  New  York,  three  hundred  miles  distant, 
embark  with  them  for  Europe,  and  make  a  show  of  the 
Aborigines  for  their  own  profit. 

"To  this  end  they  proceeded  to  the  Indian  village,  se- 
lected their  dupes,  —  six  lads  of  about  fourteen,  and  several 
squaws,  with  one  or  two  infants.  Promising  them  fine  shows 
and  sights  in  Syracuse,  they  induced  them  to  go  there. 
This  excited  no  other  attention  than  a  little  feeling  of  envy 
amongst  those  who  could  not  witness  the  promised  exhibi- 
tions. After  the  plays  were  over,  the  above-named  Indians 
were  persuaded  to  get  on  a  night  train  of  cars  and  *  take  a 
little  ride.'  This  little  ride  ended  only  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  still  held  by  blinding  promises  they  were  taken 
to  a  remote  tavern  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  there 
strictly  watched  till  the  vessel  was  ready  in  which  the  com- 
pany designed  to  embark. 

"  Meanwhile,  one  of  the  boys  managed  to  escape  and 
found  his  way  to  his  own  people,  reporting  the  captivity  of 
his  companions.  The  father  of  two  of  the  boys,  a  chief, 
hastened  to  the  city,  but  the  journey  consumed  his  little 
stock  of  money,  and,  however  bold  and  at  home  in  the  for- 
ests, the  mighty  city  of  New  York,  and  the  people  with 
whose  language  he  was  so  little  familiar  thronging  every- 
where, yet  unheeding  his  perplexities,  made  him  fearful  and 
troubled.  He  came  up  the  river  again  as  far  as  Albany, 
saw  a  man  on  the  street  he  knew,  and  related  his  troubles. 


324  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

This  man,  a  doorkeeper  at  the  State  Capitol,  brought  him  to 
me,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  consideration  I,  taking  with  me 
the  Indian,  proceeded  to  the  office  of  the  Regent  of  the 
University  and  asked  the  professor  to  attend  me  to  the 
Executive  Chambers.  They  were  crowded,  but  the  Governor 
was  my  friend  and  my  host,  for  I  was  at  that  time  a  guest 
at  Government  House.  At  once  I  stated  the  case,  asking 
authority  to  send  to  the  city  for  the  release  of  the  captive 
Indians.  The  State  attorney  was  sent  for,  but  not  being 
particularly  prompt,  nor  giving  in  the  sequence  any  very 
lucid  opinion,  I  turned  away.  The  Governor  gave  the  In- 
dian sufficient  money  to  pay  his  expenses  back  by  cars  to 
New  York,  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles. 

"  I  took  Jeave,  and  sent  a  page  to  the  Senate  Chamber 
for  one  of  the  city  Senators.  That  body  was  specially  en- 
gaged. I  repeated  my  message  urgently,  and  Mr.  Spencer 
came.  I  stated  the  case.  He  wrote  an  order  to  the  Chief 
of  Police,  directing  him  to  make  search  for  the  missing  par- 
ties and  deliver  them  to  the  chief,  and  by  all  means  pre- 
vent their  embarkation.  I  then  addressed  a  letter  to  the 
District  Attorney  of  New  York,  and  now  it  wanted  but  ten 
minutes  to  the  departure  of  the  cars  south.  I  bade  the 
Indian  run  to  the  station,  —  an  Indian  can  always  run,  — 
giving  him  the  sealed  packages,  and  to  say,  on  arriving  in 
the  city,  to  the  conductor  of  the  train  that  he  wanted  a 
policeman  to  guide  him  to  the  captain's  office  —  being  there 
to  deliver  the  papers  and  wait  the  result. 

"  It  appears  all  went  well  thus  far.  The  Chief  of  Police 
detailed  a  party  of  policemen,  and  the  '  Show  Company ' 
were  found  occupying  a  low  tavern  in  the  suburbs,  and  con- 
cealed in  a  back  room  where  they  watched  their  Onandaga 
captives.  The  five  boys  were  immediately  taken,  though 
some  opposition  and  a  show  of  fight  were  made.  The  next 
day  a  second  party  went  out  to  take  the  remainder  of  the 
Indians,  and  now  thirty  or  forty  partisans  of  the  company, 
rowdies  of  the  baser  sort,  being  collected,  a  fight  com- 


AT  HOME  AND  AT   WORK  AGAIN.  325 

menced.  The  police  were  assailed  with  stones,  knives,  and 
blows,  but  eventually  carried  their  point,  besides  arresting 
some  of  the  leaders  of  the  affray  and  the  landlord. 

"The  Indians  were  all  conveyed  to  the  North  River 
Station,  free  passage  given  to  Albany,  and  dispatched  to  the 
Seat  of  Government  with  a  letter  to  Governor  King,  and  the 
next  day  some  news-scavenger  threw  into  the  columns  of  a 
newspaper  a  history  of  the  affair  with  embellishments,  and  — 
using  my  name  as  chief  patroness  of  all  people  in  adversity 
or  otherwise  oppressed,  —  so  oddly  mixed  up  the  story  as  to 
make  it  look  very  much  as  if  I  were  not  content  with  the 
more  quiet  part  of  the  performance,  but  had  heroically  led 
the  attack,  not  by  pen,  but  by  armed  force. 

"  I  send  this  hastily  written  letter  off  without  looking  to 
see  what  is  so  carelessly  put  together.  I  invite  myself  to 
be  your  guest  five  years  from  now,  all  of  us  surviving 
that  period,  and  I  trust  you  will  live  many  long  and  good 
years. 

"  God  bless  you  and  yours, 

"  Truly  yours, 

"D.  L.  Dix." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

TILL   THE   OUTBREAK   OF   WAR. 

THERE  remained  now  but  little  over  a  year  before 
the  outbreak  of  the  great  Civil  War,  which  was  to  put 
an  end,  in  Miss  Dix's  case,  to  all  especial  asylum  work, 
until  the  vaster  question  was  settled  in  blood  whether 
the  American  Union  was  to  be  rent  in  twain  or  rees- 
tablished on  the  rock  of  universal  liberty.  Few  knew 
the  real  spirit  of  the  South  so  thoroughly  as  she,  few 
were  so  full  of  well-grounded  apprehensions.  But 
though  her  heart  was  painfully  distressed  with  sad 
forebodings,  the  whole  interval  was  filled  with  cease- 
less activity. 

There  are  several  letters  of  this  especial  year,  1860, 
which  throw  a  clear,  revealing  light  on  the  deepest- 
seated  characteristic  of  the  subject  of  this  biography, 
namely,  the  well  -  nigh  awful  intensity  of  will  with 
which  she  closed  in  life-and-death  grapple  with  every 
shape  of  wrong  inflicted  on  the  class  of  miserable  be- 
ings to  whose  championship  she  believed  herself  called 
by  the  immediate  voice  of  God.  Spite  of  the  won- 
derful results  wrought  through  her  campaign  in  Great 
Britain,  and  in  the  very  press,  moreover,  of  ceaseless 
work  in  America,  her  mind  is  none  the  less  found 
going  back  to  the  old  country  still  haunted  with  dis- 
tressing memories  of  abuses  there,  piteously  demand- 
ing redress.  How  inevitably,  in  reading  the  following 
letter  to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  does  the  outcry  of  a  previ- 


TILL   THE   OUTBREAK  OF    WAR.  327 

ously  quoted  letter  from  Toronto,  Canada,  recur  to 
the  mind :  "  If  I  am  cold,  they  are  cold ;  if  I  am 
weary,  they  are  distressed ;  if  I  am  alone,  they  are 
abandoned."  Inevitably,  too,  recur  the  characterizing 
words  of  Dr.  Tuke,  "  that  terrible  reformer,  but  gentle 
lady." 

"HARRISBURG,  PA.,  March  18,  1860. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  ...  I  wish  much  that  I  could  see  you 
again.  This  idea  will  not  give  way  even  when  I  see  how  much 
one  can  find  to  do,  ever  laboring  with  constant  diligence. 
Should  I  recross  the  ocean,  I  should  greatly  desire  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  Private  Houses,  hospitals  they  cannot  be  called, 
for  the  hapless  insane,  whose  greatest  calamity  is  in  being  cast 
within  their  imprisoning  walls.  This  horror  haunts  me  like 
an  ill  dream,  or  a  fearful  remembrance  of  what  it  is  actu- 
ally, a  series  of  most  dreadful  facts.  I  cannot  excuse  or 
forgive  the  English  Commissioners  of  Lunacy.  They  surely 
should  know  their  duty,  if  they  do  not :  but  their  dull  eyes 
and  sluggisb,  far-separated  visitations  have  revealed  some- 
thing of  the  dreary  horrors  of  those  heathen  receptacles 
sustained  by  a  Christian  people.  They  are  too  indolent  to 
exert  the  influence  their  official  station  gives  to  remedy,  at 
least  in  a  measure,  what  their  criminal  sufferance  makes 
them  participants  in  maintaining.  If  I  could  have  author- 
ity, I  would  not  let  one  circling  moon  pass  her  changes,  be- 
fore I  was  again  upon  that  field  of  toil,  —  and  neither  time 
nor  thought  should  be  spared  in  the  service.  But  I  must 
turn  from  this  subject,  on  which  I  never  allow  myself  to 
think  at  all,  if  I  can  help  it." 

A  striking  illustration  of  the  range  of  outlook 
characteristic  of  Miss  Dix  is  furnished  in  this  same 
year,  1860,  in  a  letter  from  Wisconsin,  while  on  the 
way  to  Minnesota.  Since  first  she  had  begun  her 
work  of  caring  for  the  outcasts  in  the  many  States  of 
the  Union,  how  marvelous  had  been  the  unceasing 


328  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

creation  out  of  previous  wilderness  of  ever  new  States, 
each  covering  the  area  of  what  would  constitute  a 
kingdom  in  Europe  !  What  a  spectacle  the  American 
continent  was  thus  presenting  of  a  vast  tidal  wave  of 
civilization  steadily  and  irresistibly  sweeping  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  far-away  Pacific  !  A  Sioux  Indian  up- 
rising, say  in  Minnesota,  accompanied  by  wide-spread 
massacre  of  the  scattered  settlers,  and  then,  in  a  seem- 
ing trice,  a  fresh  enrolling  of  the  momentarily  baffled 
tide  of  immigration,  which  meant  enormous  new  areas 
of  cultivated  land,  thriving  manufactories,  compact 
cities,  schools,  colleges,  and  libraries !  Yes,  and  it 
must  mean  equally  institutions  of  mercy  for  the  help- 
less and  miserable  !  was  Miss  Dix's  invincible  resolve. 
The  pioneer  in  charity  must  keep  abreast  with  the 
pioneer  of  material  civilization. 

To  MRS.  WILLIAM  RATHBONE. 

"  PRAIRIE  DU  CHIEK,  WISCONSIN,  August  27,  1860. 

"  I  am  writing  at  a  side  table  in  a  telegraph  office,  wait- 
ing for  a  boat  to  La  Crosse,  after  which  I  shall  push  up  the 
Mississippi  to  St.  Paul,  Fort  Snelling,  and  St.  Anthony.  I 
miss  your  letters  so  pleasant  and  refreshing,  often  cheering 
me  by  the  way  as  I  am  seated  in  the  cars,  passing  from  one 
place  to  another. 

"  I  expect  to  be  in  the  Northwest,  in  this  wonderful 
country  of  vast  prairies,  wide,  deep,  ocean-reaching  rivers, 
and  lakes  that  deceive  you  into  the  idea  that  you  are  where 
the  Atlantic  rushes  in  upon  the  resisting  shores  of  the  East- 
ern States.  .  .  .  The  country  is  packed  with  luckless  for- 
eigners. Well,  the  world  at  present  is  large  enough  for  all. 
If  all  would  do  their  part  for  the  general  good,  how  would 
the  earth  become  as  '  the  Garden  of  the  Lord.'  The  Ger- 
man and  the  Norwegian  element  is  making  a  mark  here, 
and  their  people  in  the  main  are  industrious,  saving,  and  or« 


TILL  THE  OUTBREAK  OF   WAR.  329 

derly,  except  a  remnant  of  the  former  who  are  in  life  and 
character  very  coarse  and  brutal,  and  singularly  addicted  to 
wife-tyranny,  —  beating  and  often  killing  the  poor  drudges 
of  the  household.  The  insane  of  this  class  of  Germans 
and  of  the  South  of  Ireland  people  are  rarely  cured,  and 
so  they  go  to  swell  the  amount  of  those  who  crowd  the  in- 
curable wards  of  hospitals." 

With  the  coming  of  colder  weather  in  the  same 
year,  1860,  the  customary  legislative  activity  was 
transferred  farther  South ;  with  what  cheering  results 
may  be  gathered  from  the  following  extract  from  a 
letter  to  Mrs.  Rathbone,  of  date,  Columbia,  South 
Carolina,  November  9  and  December  19,  1860  :  — 

"  I  made  a  rapid  journey  hither  by  railroad  from  Jackson, 
Miss.,  traveling  without  stopping  a  half  hour  three  days  and 
three  nights,  and  arriving  to  find  all  hospital  business  not  at 
a  standstill  merely,  but  looking  very  unpromising.  I  had 
no  time  to  lose,  and  at  once  saw  the  Senate  and  House  Com- 
mittees, reasoned,  explained,  persuaded,  urged,  till  I  secured 
a  unanimous  report  from  these  parties  to  their  respective 
bodies  in  favor  of  an  extension  by  new  wings,  etc.,  of  the  State 
Hospital  for  the  Insane.  Thus  the  work  is  fairly  com- 
menced. 

"  Dec.  19.  My  Bill l  has  passed  both  Senate  and  House 
by  almost  unanimous  vote,  and  I  go  hence  to  attend  to  some 
hospital  interests  at  Charleston,  S.  C.  Providence  seems 
leading  me  on,  and  He,  by  whose  mercy  I  am  preserved, 
blesses  all  my  labors  for  the  afflicted.  .  .  Whether  we  are 

1  Miss  Dix's  bill  in  South  Carolina  was  for  $60,000  for  support  of 
the  asylum  toward  the  foundation  of  which  she  had  worked  from 
1852  to  1858 ;  $5,000  for  repairs ;  $10,000  for  back  debts,  and  $80,- 
000  for  new  extension.  This  same  winter  she  had  carried  through  a 
Bill  in  Tennessee  for  an  entirely  new  hospital  in  Knoxville,  as  well  as 
raised  a  large  appropriation  for  the  old  one  she  had  founded  in  Nash- 
ville. These  amounts,  together  with  over  $100,000  secured  in  Penn- 
sylvania, represent  a  portion  only  of  the  work  of  the  year. 


330  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

permitted  to  meet  again  is  doubtful.  I  do  certainly  indulge 
the  hope.  At  present  I  have  much  that  must  be  under- 
taken here." 

It  need,  then,  hardly  be  wondered  at  that  the  year 
1860  closed  on  the  part  of  Miss  Dix  with  devout 
thanksgiving,  and  that  with  the  opening  of  1861,  she 
should  write  to  her  friend  Miss  Heath  in  the  following 
rejoicing  strain  :  — 

"FRANKFORT,  KENTUCKY,  March,  1861. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  — All  my  Bills  have  passed.  My  winter 
has  been  fully  successful.  I  have  had  great  cares,  greater 
fatigues,  many  dangers,  countless  blessings  unmeasured,  pre- 
serving mercies,  and  am  joined  to  all  occasions  for  thanks- 
giving —  well,  and  still  able  to  work  very  satisfactorily.  .  .  . 
God  spare  our  distressed  country !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

OUTBREAK   OF  WAR. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  imminence  of  a  bloody  issue 
between  South  and  North  in  the  United  States,  Miss 
Dix,  as  has  been  seen,  kept  on  steadily  at  her  accus- 
tomed work.  The  election  to  the  presidency  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  would,  she  was  entirely  persuaded,  pre- 
cipitate war.  For  years  had  she  been  brought  into 
close  personal  contact  with  the  majority  of  the  power- 
ful leaders  of  public  opinion  in  the  South,  and  under- 
stood their  ideas  and  spirit  as  did  few  Northern 
people.  Wholly  devoted  to  her  self-chosen  work,  and 
feeling  that  a  word  from  her  on  the  slavery  question 
would,  through  vast  sections  of  the  country,  destroy  in 
an  instant  her  power  to  do  anything  farther  for  the  in- 
sane, she  had  for  years  maintained  a  rigid  silence  on 
the  whole  issue.  It  was  an  instance  of  the  inevitable 
sacrifice  of  one  cause  of  humanity  for  another.  As 
has  been  already  said,  she  was  under  bonds  to  hold 
her  peace,  —  bonds  not  of  self-interest,  but  of  merciful 
compassion. 

Work,  constant  work,  was  now  her  refuge  from  dis- 
tressful thought  about  her  country.  Thus,  February, 
1861,  we  find  her  writing  from  Illinois  to  her  friend 
Miss  Heath :  — 

"  I  thank  God,  dear  Annie,  I  have  such  full  uses  for  time 
now,  for  the  state  of  our  beloved  country,  otherwise,  would 
crush  my  heart  and  life.  I  was  never  so  unhappy  but  once 


332  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

before,  and  that  grief  was  more  selfish  perhaps,  viz.,  when 
the  12,225,000  Acre  Bill  was  killed  by  a  poor,  base  man 
in  power." 

It  will  readily  be  remembered  by  the  reader  that  on 
the  sudden  and  startling  call  of  President  Lincoln  for 
75,000  volunteer  troops  to  defend  Washington,  Mass- 
achusetts was  the  first  to  respond,  with  two  regiments, 
the  Sixth  and  Eighth.  The  possibility  of  such  instan- 
taneous promptitude  had  been  due  to  the  ardor  and 
foresight  of  Governor  John  A.  Andrew,  who  mainly 
of  his  own  personal  initiative  had  provided  the  needful 
accoutrements  and  ammunition. 

The  regiment  the  first  to  leave  Massachusetts  got 
safely  through  to  Baltimore,  where,  in  marching 
through  the  streets  to  the  Washington  Station,  it  was 
assailed  by  a  furious  mob,  and  a  number  of  its  soldiers 
were  massacred.  The  main  body,  however,  made  its 
way  across  the  city,  boarded  the  train,  and  reached 
the  National  Capital  the  same  evening. 

At  once  the  Secession  element  in  Baltimore  gained 
the  upper  hand,  and  before  the  following  morning  par- 
ties  were  sent  out  to  burn  the  railroad  bridges  between 
the  city  and  Philadelphia,  —  two  of  these  bridges  each 
a  mile  or  more  in  length.  Thus  was  railway  commu- 
nication cut  off  between  Washington  and  the  North, 
and  the  possibility  of  holding  the  National  Capitol, 
surrounded  as  it  was  by  a  fiercely  hostile  population, 
seriously  imperiled.  Everything  depended  on  the 
rapidity  with  which  troops  could  be  thrown  into  the 
city.  To  effect  this  by  rail,  farther  than  to  the 
north  bank  of  the  Susquehanna  Kiver,  was  now  an  im- 
possibility ;  but  from  this  point  water  communication 
could  be  had  by  way  of  the  Susquehanna  and  of  Ches- 
apeake Bay  to  Annapolis,  Md.,  from  whence  it  was  a 
marcn  of  scarcely  twenty  miles  to  Washington. 


OUTBREAK  OF   WAR.  333 

Fortunately,  the  President  of  the  Philadelphia  and 
Baltimore  Railroad,  Samuel  M.  Felton,  was  a  man  ca- 
pable of  taking  in  the  full  peril  of  the  situation.  In- 
stantly seizing  the  steamboats  on  the  river,  he  col- 
lected them  on  the  north  shore,  provisioned  and  coaled 
them,  and  had  all  in  readiness  for  a  start  as  soon  as 
the  arrival  on  the  following  day  of  the  second  contin- 
gent of  the  Massachusetts  troops  under  General  Ben- 
jamin F.  Butler.  Thus  by  a  masterly  move  was  the 
flank  of  infuriated  Maryland  turned,  and,  not  improb- 
ably, Washington  saved. 

The  peculiar  part  played  by  Miss  Dix  in  the  prepa- 
rations instituted  to  meet  this  critical  juncture  is  known 
to  but  few,  though  it  was  a  part  always  recognized 
with  gratitude  and  admiration  by  President  Felton. 
Indeed,  in  a  letter  to  the  writer  of  this  biography,  he 
states  that  he  "  again  and  again  besought  Miss  Dix  to 
permit  him  to  make  known  how  much  the  country 
owed  to  her,  but  that  she  had  always  given  a  point- 
blank  refusal  to  have  any  use  made  of  her  name." 
Years  later,  however,  President  Felton  wrote  out  011 
his  own  responsibility  a  full  narrative  of  the  episode. 
It  furnishes  one  more  example  of  Miss  Dix's  practical 
grasp  of  an  emergency,  and  of  her  singular  power  of 
impressing  her  convictions  on  others.  Extracts  from 
President  Felton's  personal  letter  run  as  follows  :  — 

"PHILADELPHIA,  1026  WALNUT  ST.,  May  8,  1888. 

"  DEAR  MB.  TIFFANY,  — .  .  .  I  send  you  the  inclosed  ex- 
tract from  a  paper  which  I  prepared  some  twenty  years  ago, 
at  the  request  of  Mr.  Sibley,  then  Librarian  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, detailing  the  part  which  I  took  in  the  beginning  of  the 
War  of  the  Rebellion.  In  that  are  my  recollections  of  Miss 
Dix,  showing  the  part  she  took  in  those  early  days  .  .  . 

"  Early  in  the  year  1861,  Miss  Dix,  the  Philanthropist, 


334  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

came  into  my  office  on  a  Saturday  afternoon.  I  had  known 
her  for  some  years  as  one  engaged  in  alleviating  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  afflicted.  Her  occupation  in  building  hospitals 
had  brought  her  into  contact  with  the  prominent  men  South. 
She  had  become  familiar  with  the  structure  of  Southern  so- 
ciety, and  also  with  the  working  of  its  political  machinery. 
She  stated  to  me  that  she  had  an  important  communication 
to. make  to  me  personally. 

"  I  listened  attentively  to  what  she  had  to  say  for  more 
than  an  hour.  She  put  in  a  tangible  and  reliable  shape  by 
the  facts  she  related  what  before  I  had  heard  in  numerous 
and  detached  parcels.  The  sum  of  it  all  was,  that  there 
was  then  an  extensive  and  organized  conspiracy  through  the 
South  to  seize  upon  Washington,  with  its  archives  and  rec- 
ords, and  then  declare  the  Southern  Confederacy  de  facto 
the  Government  of  the  United  States.  At  the  same  time 
they  were  to  cut  off  all  means  of  communication  between 
Washington  and  the  North,  East,  and  West,  and  thus  pre- 
vent the  transportation  of  troops  to  wrest  the  Capital  from 
the  hands  of  the  insurgents.  Mr.  Lincoln's  inauguration 
was  thus  to  be  prevented,  or  his  life  was  to  fall  a  sacrifice. 
In  fact,  she  said,  troops  were  then  drilling  on  the  line  of 
our  own  road,  the  Washington  and  Annapolis  line,  and  other 
lines  of  railroad.  The  men  drilled  were  to  obey  the  com- 
mands of  their  leaders,  and  the  leaders  were  banded  to- 
gether to  capture  Washington." 

So  profound  was  the  impression  produced  on  the 
mind  of  President  Felton  by  this  interview  as  to  lead 
to  the  immediate  inception  of  measures  which  revealed 
the  full  extent  of  the  peril  of  which  Miss  Dix  had 
given  him  such  startling  information.  Detectives 
were  hired,  who  managed  to  enlist  as  volunteers  in 
the  various  squads  of  men  secretly  drilling  along  the 
lines  of  railroad  from  Harrisburg  and  from  Philadel- 
phia to  Baltimore  and  Washington,  and  who  thus  be- 


OUTBREAK  OF  WAR.  335 

came  at  home  in  their  schemes.  That  it  was  the  in- 
tention to  assassinate  Abraham  Lincoln,  on  his  way  to 
the  Capital  to  be  inaugurated  as  President,  became  in- 
creasingly clear  to  Mr.  Felton.  Thence  the  masterly 
move  by  which  he  averted  this  appalling  danger,  and 
secretly  smuggled  the  President  -  Elect  through  to 
Washington.  Certainly  it  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that, 
in  the  days  when  the  wits  of  most  men  were  utterly 
at  sea,  the  keen  insight  and  military  decision  of  mind 
of  a  woman  should  have  lighted  on  the  precise  point 
where  the  greatest  peril  to  the  nation  lay,  and  that  the 
power  of  the  warning  she  gave  should  have  been  so 
impressive  as  to  have  led  to  the  decisive  measures 
through  which  in  all  probability  the  name  and  fame 
of  Abraham  Lincoln  were  preserved  to  the  country, 
and,  not  unlikely,  Washington  itself  saved. 

It  so  happened  that,  at  the  time  of  the  wild  excite- 
ment which  broke  out  as  soon  as  it  was  known  that 
the  Sixth  Massachusetts  was  on  its  way  from  Boston 
to  Washington,  and  that  other  regiments  from  various 
States  were  to  follow,  Miss  Dix  was  with  her  old  friends, 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Buttolph,  at  the  Trenton  Asylum,  rest- 
ing there  from  a  recent  arduous  tour  through  the 
West.  Taking  in  the  situation  in  an  instant,  she  felt 
that  Washington,  where  camp  disease  and  wounded 
men  would  soon  be  the  order  of  the  day,  was  now  her 
post  of  duty.  Accordingly,  only  three  hours  after  the 
massacre  in  Baltimore,  and  while  all  was  still  fright- 
ful tumult,  she  reached  that  city,  and  with  great  diffi- 
culty making  her  way  through  the  thronging  streets, 
managed  to  board  the  last  train  that  was  permitted  to 
leave  for  Washington.  The  call  for  volunteers  had 
brought  her  as  a  volunteer,  —  to  report  for  nursing 
duties.  A  hurried  line  from  her  to  her  friend  Miss 
Heath  tells  the  story. 


336  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

"WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  April  20,  1861. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  Yesterday  I  followed  in  the  train  three 
hours  after  the  tumult  in  Baltimore.  It  was  not  easy  get- 
ting across  the  city,  but  I  did  not  choose  to  turn  back,  and 
so  I  reached  my  place  of  destination.  I  think  my  duty  lies 
near  military  hospitals  for  the  present.  This  need  not  be 
announced.  I  have  reported  myself  and  some  nurses  for 
free  service  at  the  War  Department  and  to  the  Surgeon 
General." 

Thus,  through  the  promptitude  with  which  she  was 
first  on  the  ground,  had  Miss  Dix  manifested  her  old- 
time  spirit.  Perfectly  naturally,  then,  did  it  come 
about  that  she  should  at  once  be  appointed  "  Superin- 
tendent of  Women  Nurses,  to  select  and  assign  women 
nurses  to  general  or  permanent  military  hospitals, 
they  not  to  be  employed  in  such  hospitals  without  her 
sanction  and  approval,  except  in  cases  of  urgent 
need."  Orders  to  this  effect  were  at  once  issued  by 
Simon  Cameron,  Secretary  of  War,  and  D.  C.  Wood, 
Acting  Surgeon  General. 

The  literal  meaning,  however,  of  such  a  commission 
as  had  thus  been  hurriedly  bestowed  on  Miss  Dix  — 
applying  as  it  did  to  the  women  nurses  of  the  military 
hospitals  of  the  whole  United  States  not  in  actual 
rebellion  —  was  one  which,  in  those  early  days  of  the 
war,  no  one  so  much  as  began  to  take  in.  A  fatal 
delusion  possessed  the  mind  of  the  North  that  in  two 
or  three  months  at  most  the  war  would  be  over.  In- 
deed, thousands  severely  blamed  the  President  for 
ordering  out  such  a  host  of  three-months'  men.  At 
any  rate,  the  75,000  volunteer  troops  would  soon 
sweep  everything  before  their  irresistible  mass  and 
valor.  That  a  four  years'  deadly  struggle  confronted 
the  nation,  that  before  it  was  settled  more  than  a  mil- 


OUTBREAK  OF   WAR.  337 

lion  of  men  would  be  arrayed  on  either  side,  this  no 
imagination  was  prophetic  enough  to  grasp.  Such 
a  commission,  then,  —  as  the  march  of  events  was 
before  long  to  prove,  —  involved  a  sheer  practical 
impossibility.  It  implied  not  a  single-handed  woman, 
nearly  sixty  years  old  and  shattered  in  health,  but 
immense  organized  departments  at  twenty  different 
centres. 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  Civil  War,  the  United  States 
had  maintained  an  army  of  but  from  20,000  to  25,000 
men.  Except  in  the  exceptional  case  of  the  Mexican 
War,  no  mind  in  the  country  had  ever  coped  with  the 
problem  of  dealing  with  the  medical  care  of  forces 
larger  than  those  of  the  few  regiments  quartered  in 
widely  distant  parts  of  the  Union.  To  help,  through 
non-military  volunteer  service,  to  meet  the  dire  de- 
mand now  suddenly  sprung  on  the  nation,  the  men 
and  women  of  the  North  were  working  night  and  day  ; 
pouring  out  unstintedly  treasures  of  money,  and  accu- 
mulating and  forwarding  enormous  stores  of  clothing, 
bandages,  and  delicate  foods  for  the  sick  and  wounded 
in  the  hospitals. 

What  agency,  then,  should  prove  itself  competent 
to  handle  and  promptly  distribute  these  vast  stores  ? 
No  agency,  it  was  soon  found  out,  short  of  powerful 
organizations  like  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and,  later 
on,  the  Christian  Commission,  —  organizations  with 
immense  sums  of  money  at  their  disposal,  storehouses 
at  a  hundred  different  points,  trains  of  army  wagons 
in  the  field,  department  divisions  presided  over  by 
able  administrative  minds,  with  a  little  army  of  effi- 
cient subordinates.  Women  nurses,  moreover,  were 
volunteering  by  the  thousands,  the  majority  of  them 
without  the  experience  or  health  to  fit  them  for  such 


338  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

arduous  service.  Who  should  pass  on  their  qualifica- 
tions, who  station,  superintend,  and  train  them  ? 

Now,'  under  the  Atlas  weight  of  cares  and  responsi- 
bilities so  suddenly  thrust  on  Miss  Dix,  the  very 
qualifications  which  had  so  preeminently  fitted  her 
for  the  previous  sphere  in  which  she  had  wrought 
such  miracles  of  success  began  to  tell  against  her. 
She  was  nearly  sixty  years  old,  and  with  a  constitution 
sapped  with  malaria,  overwork,  and  pulmonary  weak- 
ness. She  had  for  years  been  a  lonely  and  single- 
handed  worker,  planning  her  own  projects,  keeping 
her  own  counsel,  and  pressing  on,  unhampered  by 
the  need  of  consulting  others  toward  her  self-chosen 
goal.  In  all  this,  her  towering  idealism,  and  thirst 
after  perfection  of  organization  and  discipline  had 
proved  the  precise  qualities  needed.  Nowhere  else  in 
the  world  is  there  demanded  such  wise  selection  of 
officials,  such  sleepless  vigilance,  and  such  exercise  of 
perpetual  self-control,  as  in  a  well  ordered  insane 
asylum. 

But  in  war  —  especially  in  a  war  precipitately  en- 
tered on  by  a  raw  and  inexperienced  people  —  all  such 
perfection  of  organization  and  discipline  is  out  of 
question.  If  a  good  field  hospital  cannot  be  had,  the 
best  must  be  made  of  a  bad  one.  If  a  skillful  sur- 
geon is  not  on  hand,  then  an  incompetent  one  must 
hack  away  after  his  own  butcher  fashion.  If  selfish 
and  greedy  attendants  or  physicians  wall  eat  up  and 
drink  up  the  supplies  of  delicacies  and  wines  for  the 
sick,  then  enough  more  must  be  supplied  to  give  the 
sick  the  fag-end  of  a  chance.  It  is  useless  to  try  to 
idealize  war.  While  it  calls  out  all  that  is  heroic 
and  consecrated  in  one  class  of  men,  it  calls  out  all 
that  is  selfish  and  base  in  another. 


OUTBREAK  OF    WAR.  339 

All  this,  however,  Miss  Dix  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  endure.  Ready  to  live  on  a  crust  and  to  sac- 
rifice herself  without  stint,  her  whole  soul  was  on  fire 
at  the  spectacles  of  incompetence  and  callous  indif- 
ference she  was  daily  doomed  to  witness.  She  be- 
came overwrought  and  lost  the  requisite  self-control. 
That  pathetic  sympathy  with  human  suffering  which 
had  been  the  mainspring  of  her  long  and  wonderful 
philanthropic  career,  now,  when  she  was  brought  face 
to  face  with  such  massive  misery  she  could  not  relieve, 
served  only  to  unnerve  her.  Inevitably,  then,  she  be- 
came involved  in  sharp  altercations  with  prominent 
medical  officials  and  with  regimental  surgeons.  She 
tried  to  stand  over  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers  as 
the  avenging  angel  of  their  wrongs.  Many  and  many 
an  abuse  did  she  ferret  out  and  get  redressed.  Still, 
it  is  the  clear  opinion  of  her  best  and  most  judicious 
friends  that  she  pitched  her  demands  impracticably 
high,  and  failed  to  take  due  account  of  such  poor 
material  as  average  human  nature,  and  so  to  work 
with  it  to  the  best  advantage.  She  tried  to  insist  on 
her  women  nurses  being  at  least  thirty  years  old,  and 
to  establish  standards  of  pure  consecration  to  duty 
which  were  out  of  the  range  of  any  but  a  few  excep- 
tional natures  like  her  own.  Moreover,  to  meet  the 
constant  inpouring  into  Washington  of  hundreds  of 
tons  of  hospital  supplies,  she  had  no  adequate  provision 
of  storehouses  nor  of  the  needful  machinery  of  distri- 
bution. The  lone  worker  could  not  change  her  nature. 
She  tried  to  do  everything  herself,  and  the  feat  before 
long  became  an  impossibility.  At  length  she  came  to 
recognize  this,  again  and  again  exclaiming  in  her  dis- 
tress, "This  is  not  tho  work  I  would  have  my  life 
judged  by ! " 


340  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Still,  partially  at  least,  her  life  will  have  to  be 
judged  by  this  work,  — the  life  of  a  woman  of  nearly 
sixty,  broken  by  the  strain  of  years,  upon  whom  had 
suddenly  devolved  an  entirely  new  burden  of  re- 
sponsibilities too  great  for  any  single  mind  to  cope 
with ;  and  the  verdict  will  have  to  be  that,  while  in 
personal  devotion  no  portion  of  her  career  surpassed 
this,  still  in  wisdom  and  practical  efficiency  it  was 
distinctly  inferior  to  her  work  in  her  own  great  sphere. 
Of  its  consecration  of  purpose  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion./Through  the  four  long  years  of  the  war  she 
never  took  a  day's  furlough.  Untiringly  did  she  re- 
main at  her  post,  organizing  bands  of  nurses,  forward- 
ing supplies,  inspecting  hospitals,  and  in  many  a  case 
of  neglect  and  abuse  making  her  name  a  salutary 
terror.  Especially  in  the  early  days  of  the  war,  be- 
forethe  Sanitary  and  Christian  Commissions  assumed 
their  later  immense  proportions,  her  labors  proved  the 
means  of  relieving  a  large  amount  of  suffering  and 
saving  many  a  valuable  life.  From  the  outset  her  rep- 
utation and  wide  range  of  acquaintance  had  rallied  to 
her  side  many  of  the  most  efficient  nurses  in  the  land, 
while  the  trust  reposed  in  her  by  humane  and  patriotic 
minds  had  led  to  there  being  placed  at  her  disposal 
immense  stores  of  invaluable  supplies.  No  doubt, 
farther,  through  the  very  height  of  the  demand  she 
made  for  absolute  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  soldier, 
and  the  fiery  zeal  with  which  she  joined  battle  with 
all  that  fell  below  the  mark,  she  helped  to  raise  the 
standard.  This  unquestionably  made  her  very  un- 
popular with  many;  to  which  she  would  no  doubt 
have  replied,  "  Woe  unto  you  when  all  men  speak 
well  of  you  !  " 

In  dealing  with  the  question  of  popularity,  —  espe- 


OUTBREAK  OF   WAR.    '  341 

cially  in  democratic  America  where  this  especial  virtue 
outranks  faith,  hope,  and  charity,  —  it  is  always  hard 
to  hold  the  balance  of  praise  or  blame  strictly  even. 
What  seems  to  have  been  the  fault  of  Miss  Dix's  ad- 
ministration of  her  responsible  office,  namely,  an  over- 
wrought zeal  precipitating  her  at  times  into  intemper- 
ate action,  and  thus  impairing  that  singular  balance  of 
faculties  through  which  her  previous  successes  had 
been  achieved,  has,  perhaps,  been  sufficiently  dwelt 
on. 

In  summary,  however,  of  the  impression  left  by  her 
at  this  period  of  her  career  on  minds  kindred  to  her 
own  in  absolute  devotion  to  duty,  no  higher  testimo- 
nial can  be  offered  than  in  the  following  extract  from 
a  letter  of  one  whose  services  to  the  sick  and  wounded 
in  the  war  won  the  admiration  of  all,  Dr.  Caroline  A. 
Burghardt :  — 

u  She  was  [writes  Dr.  Burgliardt]  a  very  retiring,  sen- 
sitive woman,  yet  brave  and  bold  as  a  lion  to  do  battle  for 
the  right  and  for  justice.  She  was  very  unpopular  in  the 
war  with  surgeons,  nurses,  and  any  others,  who  failed  to  do 
their  whole  duty,  and  they  disliked  to  sed  her  appear,  as  she 
was  sure  to  do  if  needed.  .  .  She  was  one  who  found  no 
time  to  make  herself  famous  with  pen  and  paper,  but  a 
hard,  earnest  worker,  living  in  the  most  severely  simple 
manner,  often  having  to  be  reminded  that  she  needed  food. 
.  .  To  those  of  us  who  were  privileged  to  know  her,  her 
memory  is,  and  ever  will  be,  very  dear.  Every  day  recalls 
some  of  her  noble  acts  of  kindness  and  self-sacrifice  to  mind. 
She  seemed  to  me  to  lead  a  dual  life,  one  for  the  outside 
world,  the  other  for  her  trusted,  tried  friends." 

One  massive  character  was  there,  however,  in  Wash- 
ing-ton, the  great  War  Secretary,  Edwin  M.  Stanton, 
on  whom  no  outcry  of  unpopularity  against  Miss  Dix 
could  produce  any  effect.  Accustomed  himself  to  do 


342  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  D1X. 

his  duty  at  all  risks,  unpopularity  reaped  in  doing  it 
was  in  his  eyes  a  commendation  of  fidelity  rather  than 
a  reproach.  So  high  was  his  sense  of  the  country's  in- 
debtedness to  the  woman,  who  had  been  first  on  the 
ground  and  was  last  to  quit  the  post  of  duty,  that  at 
the  close  of  war,  he  appealed  to  her  to  know  in  what 
shape  it  would  be  most  agreeable  to  her  to  have  her 
services  officially  recognized.  A  great  public  meeting 
presided  over  by  the  highest  officials,  or  a  vote  of 
money  from  Congress  were  proposed.  These  Miss 
Dix  absolutely  declined.  What,  then,  would  she  like  ? 
was  asked.  "  The  Flags  of  my  Country,"  she  replied, 
never  deeming  that  her  request  would  be  granted. 
A  beautiful  pair  of  the  national  colors  were  specially 
directed  by  government  to  be  made  for  her,  and  the  fol- 
lowing order  was  issued  from  the  War  Department :  — 

"WAR  DEPARTMENT,  WASHINGTON  CITY, 

"  December  3,  1866. 

"  Order  in  Relation  to  the  Services  of  Miss  Dix. 
"In  token  and  acknowledgment  of  the  inestimable  services 
rendered  by  Miss  Dorothea  L.  Dix   for  the  Care,   Succor, 
and  Relief  of  the  Sick  and  Wounded  Soldiers  of  the  United 
States  on  the  Battle-Field,  in  Camps  and  Hospitals  during  the 
recent  War,  and  of  her  benevolent  and  diligent  labors  and 
devoted  efforts  to  whatever  might  contribute  to  their  com- 
fort and  welfare,  it   is  ordered  that  a  Stand    of  Arms  of 
the  United  States  National  Colors  be  presented  to  Miss  Dix. 
"  EDWIN  M.  STANTON,  Secretary  of  War." 

January  14,  1867,  the  execution  of  the  above  order 
was  communicated  in  the  ensuing  letter :  — 

"WAR  DEPARTMENT,  ADJUTANT  GENERAL'S  OFFICE, 

"  WASHINGTON,  January  14,  1867. 
"  Miss  D.  L.  Dix,  No.  2  Pearl  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss   Dix,  —  I  have  the  pleasure  of  sending 
by  express  this  day,  in  obedience  to  an  order  of  Mr.  Stan- 


OUTBREAK   O/-'    WAR.  343 

ton,  Secretary  of  War,  a  box  containing  a  Stand  of  the 
United  States  Colors  presented  to  you  by  the  Secretary.  I 
trust  they  will  arrive  safely. 

"  With  great  respect,  your  obedient  servant. 

"E.  D.  TOWNSEND." 

To  these  communications  Miss  Dix  made  reply :  — 

To  GENERAL  E.  D.  TOWNSEND. 

"ALBANY,  N.  Y.,  January  25,  1867. 

u  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  just  in  receipt  of  your  letter  of  the 
14th,  and  acknowledge  with  the  deep  emotion  of  a  patriotic 
heart  my  sense  of  the  honor  conferred  by  the  presentation 
through  you  from  the  Secretary  of  War  of  a  Stand  of  the 
United  States  Colors.  No  greater  distinction  could  have 
been  conferred  on  me,  and  the  value  of  this  gift  is  greatly 
enhanced  by  the  quiet  manner  in  which  it  is  bestowed. 

"  Respectfully,  D.  L.  Dix." 

To  HONORABLE   EDWIN  M.  STANTON. 

"ALBANY,  N.  Y.,  January  25,  1867. 

"  SIR,  —  I  beg  to  express  my  sense  of  the  honorable  dis- 
tinction conferred  on  me  by  the  Secretary  of  War,  in  the 
presentation  of  a  Stand  of  United  States  Colors  received  by 
order  through  Assistant  Adjutant  General  Townsend.  No 
more  precious  gift  could  have  been  bestowed,  and  no  pos- 
session will  be  so  prized  while  life  remains  to  love  and 
serve  my  country. 

"  Very  respectfully  and  with  well-grounded  esteem, 

"D.  L.  Dix." 

These  beautiful  flags  were  bequeathed  by  Miss  Dix 
to  Harvard  College,  where,  in  the  noble  Memorial 
Hall  dedicated  to  the  Sons  of  Harvard  who  died  for 
their  Country  in  the  War  for  the  Maintenance  of  the 
Union,  they  to-day  hang,  suspended  over  the  main 
portal. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

BUILDS   A   MONUMENT. 

WITH  the  close  of  the  war  came  honorable  dis- 
charge from  the  service  to  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
soldiers,  officers,  surgeons,  and  nurses.  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home !  "  was  now  the  rejoicing  air  struck  up 
by  the  regimental  bands.  To  a  nature  like  Miss 
Dix's,  however,  this  could  not  be.  She  had  no  home. 
She  was  a  stranger  and  a  pilgrim  on  the  earth.  She 
asked  no  discharge  this  side  the  grave.  For  her,  then, 
another,  but  still  a  martial  strain,  must  be  taken  up 
by  drum  and  trumpet,  set  to  the  words  of  her  favo- 
rite hymn, 

"  A  soldier's  life,  from  battles  won 

To  new  commencing1  strife, 

A  pilgrim's,  restless  as  the  Sun, 

Behold  the  Christian's  life." 

Almost  inevitably  had  it  come  about,  through  her 
duties  as  superintendent  of  women  nurses  that  she 
should  have  assumed  an  immense  number  of  commis- 
sions from  soldiers  dying  in  hospitals  under  her 
charge,  commissions  which  involved  large  correspon- 
dence with  their  families.  Moreover,  for  hundreds 
who  had  been  wounded  and  had  ultimately  recovered, 
as  well  as  for  large  numbers  of  nurses,  who  had  be- 
come invalided  in  their  work  and  were  left  poor  and 
unprovided  for,  had  she  undertaken  the  role  of  volun- 
teer pension  agent.  All  this  crowded  her  with  work 
for  eighteen  months  to  come.  Her  authority  with  the 


BUILDS  A  MONUMENT.  345 

War  Department  here  rendered  her  services  to  great 
numbers  of  the  humble  and  uninfluential,  invalua- 
ble. 

No  long  time  went  by,  however,  before  her  ardent 
sympathies  became  enlisted  in  another  work,  —  the 
work  this  time  of  erecting  an  enduring  monument  to 
the  memory  of  the  thousands  of  brave  men  who  lay, 
sleeping  their  last  sleep,  in  the  newly-established  Na- 
tional Cemetery,  at  Hampton,  Virginia,  near  Fortress 
Monroe.  On  this,  to  her  hallowed  ground,  had  she  re- 
ceived too  many  dying  messages  from  the  soldiers  she 
so  loved,  not  to  make  the  work  seem  to  her  a  conse- 
crated duty. 

The  first  idea  of  such  a  monument  had  been  conceived 
by  others,  who,  either  wearying  in  the  task  of  raising 
the  necessary  funds  for  it,  or,  unequal  to  doing  it,  felt 
that  they  must  transfer  the  burden  to  the  shoulders  of 
this  overtasked  woman,  who  swiftly  and  gladly  took  it 
up.  To  her  it  seemed  a  disloyal  outrage  that  so  de- 
vout a  memorial  should  not  be  erected.  Few  shared 
so  strong  a  sense  of  the  duty  of  a  nation's  enduringly 
commemorating  in  bronze  and  stone  its  obligation  to 
its  martyrs  to  liberty,  as  the  very  woman  who  always 
refused  point-blank  to  have  her  own  name  connected 
with  any  of  her  great  works.  It  is  a  seeming  incon- 
sistency not  uncommon  with  the  order  of  minds  to 
which  she  belonged.  No  doubt  John  Howard  would 
have  subscribed  most  liberally  to  a  monument  for  any 
other  philanthropist,  while  leaving  behind,  in  far-away 
Cherson,  the  strict  order,  "  Bury  me  where  I  die,  and 
let  me  be  forgotten." 

The  first  allusion  to  any  personal  connection  of 
Miss  Dix  with  this  projected  monument  is  found  in  a 
letter  to  Mrs.  William  Rathbone,  an  extract  from 


346  LIFE   OP  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

which  will  attest  the  depth  of  the  feelings  that  had 
moved  the  writer  to  undertake  the  work. 

"WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  August  IS,  1866. 
"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  ...  Lately  I  have  collected  in 
a  quiet  way  among  my  friends  $8,000,  with  which  to  erect 
a  granite  monument  in  a  cemetery  at  Fortress  Monroe  where 
are  interred  more  than  6,000  of  our  brave,  loyal  soldiers. 
...  I  had  especial  direction  over  most  of  these  martyred 
to  a  sacred  cause,  and  never  forget  the  countless  last  mes- 
sages of  hundreds  of  dying  men  to  fathers,  mothers,  wives, 
and  children  ;  never  forget  the  calm,  manly  fortitude  which 
sustained  them  through  the  anguish  of  mortal  wounds  and 
the  agonies  of  dissolution.  Nothing,  in  a  review  of  the 
past  four  years'  war,  so  astonishes  me  as  the  uniformly  calm 
and  firm  bearing  of  these  soldiers  of  a  good  cause,  dying 
without  a  murmur  as  they  had  suffered  without  a  com- 
plaint. Thank  Heaven  the  war  is  over.  I  would  that  its 
memories  also  could  pass  away." 

Once  making  herself  responsible  that  the  monu- 
ment should,  and  so,  necessarily,  would,  be  built,  Miss 
Dix  set  to  work  with  her  usual  energy.  She  was  by 
nature  a  builder,  and  always  happier  in  dealing  with 
those  reliable  and  tangible  servants  of  God,  stone  and 
iron,  lime  and  hydraulic  cement,  rock  foundations, 
than  with  the  hay,  wood,  and  stubble  of  politicians. 
She  meant  that,  as  a  structure,  this  should  be  a  monu- 
ment that  would  tell  its  story  of  self-sacrifice  for  gen- 
erations to  come.  With  this  end  in  view,  weeks  were 
spent  by  her  in  visiting  quarry  after  quarry  along  the 
sea-coast  of  Maine,  till  she  should  find  a  granite  of 
such  imperishable  quality  as  fitly  to  symbolize  to  her 
the  granite  in  the  character  of  the  men  whose  name 
and  fame  it  was  to  repeat  to  their  children's  children. 
"  It  promises  to  stand  for  centuries  unless  an  earth- 


BUILDS  A  MONUMENT.  347 

quake  should  shake  it  clown,"  was  her  own  word  of 
happy  congratulation  when  at  last  the  structure  stood 
completed. 

Contributions  now  flowed  in  rapidly  in  response  to 
the  appeals  she  made,  and  by  December  11,  1867,  all 
was  in  such  state  of  forwardness  that  she  could  write 
to  her  friend  Mrs.  Torrey :  tk  Reaching  Washington, 
I  proceeded  at  once  to  the  Ordnance  Bureau  to  see 
Major  General  Dyer,  wrote  a  letter  to  General  Grant, 
which  was  signed  4  approved  '  by  General  Dyer,  ask- 
ing for  1,000  muskets  and  bayonets,  15  rifled  guns, 
and  a  quantity  of  24-pound  shot,  with  which  to  con- 
struct my  fence.  I  am  rather  gratified  that  every  bill 
has  been  paid  as  soon  as  forwarded."  So  energeti- 
cally was  the  work  then  pushed  that  early  in  May, 
1868,  the  completed  monument  was  handed  over  to 
the  care  of  the  United  States  Government,  and  the 
following  letter  received  from  Secretary  Stanton  :  — 

"WAR  DEPARTMENT,  WASHINGTON  CITY,  May  12,  1868. 
"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  Inasmuch  as  by  the  Act  of  Congress 
the  National  Cemeteries  are  placed  in  charge  of  the  Secre- 
tary of  War,  and  under  his  direction,  I  accept  with  pleasure 
the  tender  of  this  memorial  to  our  gallant  dead,  and  return 
the  thanks  of  the  Department  to  the  public-spirited  citizens 
who  have  furnished  the  means  for  erecting  it ;  and  to  your- 
self for  your  arduous,  patriotic,  humane,  and  benevolent  la- 
bors in  bringing  to  a  successful  completion  such  a  noble  tes- 
timonial to  our  gallant  dead  who  perished  in  the  war  to 
maintain  their  government  and  suppress  the  rebellion. 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  EDWIN  M.  STANTON,  Secretary  of  War'1 

In  another  and  less  ceremonious  vein,  now  humor- 
ously writes  to  Miss  Dix  his  felicitations,  her  dear  old 
asylum  friend,  Dr.  Isaac  Ray. 


348  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

'*  I  congratulate  you  [he  says]  on  the  completion  of  your 
Monument.  With  so  much  stone  and  iron  on  your  shoul- 
ders, I  do  not  wonder  you  got  sick.  Pray,  do  take  a  lighter 
load  the  next  time  you  undertake  to  shoulder  other  people's 
burdens." 

In  the  National  Cemetery  in  which  this  memorial 
stands,  there  sleep  to-day,  under  the  shade  of  the 
magnolias  and  cedars,  more  than  twelve  thousand 
Union  soldiers,  to  whose  ranks  each  year  contributes 
its  fresh  quotum  from  the  fast-vanishing  inmates  of  the 
great  Soldiers'  Home  close  at  hand.  The  monument 
itself  is  an  obelisk  of  syenite  rising  to  a  height  of 
seventy-five  feet,  and  resting  on  a  massive  base  twenty- 
seven  feet  square.  It  is  inclosed  with  a  circular  fence 
of  musket-barrels,  bayonets,  and  rifled  cannon  set  in 
heavy  blocks  of  stone.  The  impression  it  makes  on 
the  mind  is  simple,  dignified,  and  martial.  On  it  is 
set  the  inscription,  "  In  Memory  of  Union  Soldiers 
who  Died  to  maintain  the  Laws."  The  first  object 
visible  over  the  low  level  of  the  peninsula  to  vessels 
coming  in  from  sea  to  the  Roads,  it  stands  the  rever- 
ential tribute  of  a  heroic  woman  to  the  heroic  men 
she  honored  with  all  her  soul. 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

RESUMES   HOSPITAL   WORK. 

HER  last  duties  connected  with  the  war  at  an  end, 
Miss  Dix,  now  sixty-five  years  old,  took  up  once  again 
her  old  asylum  work,  never  relaxing  in  the  fidelity 
with  which  she  pursued  it,  till,  at  the  age  of  eighty, 
she  retired  incapacitated  for  further  service,  to  the 
shelter  gratefully  tendered  her  by  the  Board  of  Mana- 
gers of  the  Asylum  in  Trenton,  N.  J.,  her  "First-born 
Child." 

That  the  impoverishment  wrought  by  war  in  the 
Southern  and  Southwestern  States  must  have  left  all 
institutions  of  charity  in  a  deplorable  condition,  she 
was  clearly  enough  convinced.  But  the  old  glad  wel- 
come with  which  she  had  once  been  cheered  in  her 
work  there,  was  it  not  over  forever,  love  turned  to 
hate,  blessing  to  reviling  and  cursing?  Fully  had  she 
herself  shared  the  consuming  wrath  with  which  sensi- 
tive natures  were  in  those  days  inflamed,  and  unspar- 
ingly had  she  denounced  what  had  seemed  to  her  the 
wanton  wickedness  of  the  action  of  the  South.  When, 
in  the  course  of  her  duties  as  superintendent  of 
nurses,  she  had  had  to  receive  back  and  care  for  great 
bodies  of  Union  soldiers  just  released  from  the  South- 
ern prisons,  starved  to  skeletons  and  idiotic  with  the 
misery  they  had  undergone,  it  had  seemed  to  her,  in 
the  bitterness  of  her  soul,  that  she  could  never  again 
shake  hands  with  those  she  had  once  so  warmly 
loved. 


350  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Great,  then,  was  her  surprise  and  delight  at  finding 
that  in  her  case  at  least  an  exception  was  made  to 
the  vindictive  feelings  inevitably  engendered  by  war. 
The  old  memories  of  love  and  admiration  had  survived 
as  fresh  as  ever,  and  the  old  sense  of  grateful  depend- 
ence on  her  for  services  no  one  else  could  render 
found  immediate,  imploring  expression  just  as  in  by- 
gone days.  Yes,  the  condition  of  things  was  deplor- 
able, all  told  her,  but  to  whom  could  they  look  for 
help  but  to  her  ! 

From  the  large  number  of  beseeching  letters  that 
now  came  to  her,  limitations  of  space  forbid  more 
than  the  selection  of  a  single  typical  example,  —  an 
example,  however,  which  pathetically  illustrates  the 
grief  felt  by  devoted  friends  of  the  insane  over  the 
ruin  that  had  been  wrought  in  the  South,  and  which 
at  the  same  time  testifies  to  the  yearning  of  heart  with 
which  their  old-time  benefactor  was  looked  to  for  aid. 
The  extracts  given  are  from  a  letter  of  Mr.  Alfred 
Huger,  of  Charleston,  S.  C.  Though  not  written  till 
the  beginning  of  1870,  the  letter  shows  the  thankful- 
ness awakened  in  so  many  minds  by  the  bare  fact  that 
Miss  Dix  was  now  once  more  on  the  field. 

"CHARLESTON,  S.  C.,  January  31,  1870. 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  I  have  just  heard  of  your  arrival 
at  Columbia !  The  Past,  the  Present,  and  the  Future,  are 
by  this  announcement  grouped  before  me.  It  is  the  instinct 
of  the  afflicted  to  be  aroused  and  encouraged  when  your 
name  is  mentioned.  Ruin  and  desolation  hold  their  court 
among  us.  Our  poor  little  State  is  sinking  under  a  weight 
of  calamity  and  of  woe,  our  temples  are  draped  in  mourning, 
and  our  hearts  are  in  the  dust.  Still,  we  flock  to  the  altar 
when  the  High  Priestess  is  there.  .  .  . 

"  I   was   one   of   the   founders    of   the   lunatic   asylum. 


RESUMES  HOSPITAL    WORK.  851 

Everywhere  and  at  all  times  I  have  watched  its  progress. 
During  the  war  I  was  in  daily,  almost  hourly,  interchange 
with  our  valued  friend,  Dr.  Parker,  and  with  that  household 
of  wounded  minds  over  which  he  presides,  and,  as  we  be- 
lieve, doing  so  with  a  holy  purpose.  Dr.  Parker  is  the 
father,  brother,  and  friend,  the  very  *  shield  and  buckler ' 
of  our  stricken  brethren. 

"  We  have  heard,  like  a  summons  to  meet  death,  of  his 
possible  removal,  and  we  have  heard  also  of  your  providen- 
tial advent.  If  the  authorities  that  rule  over  us  select  this 
man  as  a  victim,  or  if  Dr.  Parker  himself  can  endure  his 
surroundings  no  longer,  then  there  is  an  agony  upon  us,  and 
may  we  not  appeal  to  you  for  succor  and  for  help.  .  .  .  We 
look  to  you  both  as  the  vicegerents  of  '  Our  Father  who  is  in 
Heaven,'  and  we  cannot  look  in  vain,  and  we  must  not  look 
in  vain,  and  we  will  not  look  in  vain  !  Dr.  Parker  has  no 
equal  in  our  State  for  the  position  he  occupies.  You  have 
no  superior,  with  your  mission  signed  in  the  High  Chancery 
of  Heaven,  and  witnessed  by  angels  who  do  justice  and  love 
mercy. 

"  In  this  hour  of  our  trial,  a  word  of  information  or  of 
consolation  from  you  would  be  a  boon  and  a  blessing." 
"  Faithfully  and  with  profound  respect, 

"ALFRED  HUGER." 

• 

To  appreciate  the  desolation  of  spirit  that  finds 
vent  in  the  above  letter  it  is  necessary  to  call  to  mind 
the  actual  condition  of  things  then  prevailing  in  South 
Carolina.  The  State  was  under  the  control  of  a 
legislature  packed  almost  solid  with  brutal  plantation 
negroes.  The  influential  leaders  who  swayed  them 
were  largely  "  carpet-bag  "  politicians  from  the  North, 
the  picturesque  title  then  given  to  a  class  of  rapacious 
adventurers,  whose  worldly  possessions,  consisting 
solely  in  an  extra  shirt  and  a  pair  of  socks,  could 
hardly  as  yet  aspire  to  the  dignity  of  a  trunk.  Later, 


352  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

indeed  they  meant  to  have  one,  and  to  have  it  packed 
full.  What  would  be  the  inevitable  policy  of  such  a 
legislature  and  such  leaders  toward  a  State  Insane 
Asylum  can  readily  be  conceived.  It  would  be  to  put 
in  some  ignorant,  thievish  black  as  steward,  some 
greedy,  half-educated  white  doctor  as  superintendent, 
and  in  the  same  way  to  dispose  of  the  rest  of  the 
legitimate  spoils  of  office.  The  condition  of  things 
was  worse  in  South  Carolina  than  in  the  other  South- 
ern States.  Still,  something  analagous  to  this  was  in 
danger  of  prevailing  in  them  all. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  in  the  misery  of  his  position, 
Dr.  Parker  should  have  written  vehemently  to  Miss 
Dix  in  reply  to  a  letter  from  her  counseling  patience. 
Patience  !  patience  !  The  regents  of  his  asylum  were 
hall:  or  two  thirds  negroes.  They  had  apparently  got 
wind  of  certain  of  the  ways  of  Europe  and  had  made 
the  happy  discovery  of  a  new  official  genus,  hitherto 
unknown,  called  the  "  pluralist ;  "  on  the  strength  of 
which  discovery  they  had  bestowed  three  offices  in  the 
asylum  on  a  single  person  totally  unfit  to  discharge  the 
duties  of  any  one  of  them.  On  Dr.  Parker's  reporting 
the  delinquencies  of  the  man,  the  culprit  had  defiantly 
written  to  the  regents  :  u  Everything  will  go  on  well, 
if  you  (the  regents)  can  have  your  own  way,  but  not 
if  the  superintendent  is  to  have  his."  Happily,  one 
negro  regent  had  the  good  sense  to  administer,  in  his 
own  peculiar  vernacular,  the  following  sound  rebuke  : 
"  Well,  Dr.  H.,  the  superintendent  is  the  man  to  have 
his  way ;  he  is  boss,  and  we  will  not  have  two  bosses." 
At  the  close  of  his  letter,  Dr.  Parker  says,  "If  any 
one  can  save  our  cherished  institution  from  ruin,  you 
are  the  person." 

Now  already  in  the  previous  two  years  of  1868  and 


RESUMES  HOSPITAL    WORK.  353 

1869  had  Miss  Dix  been  at  work  with  her  old  success 
in  the  Northern  and  Middle  States.  Spite  of  war  the 
national  population  had  been  steadily  growing.  The 
demands,  moreover,  on  such  institutions  as  the  Army 
and  Navy  Asylum  in  Washington  had  advanced  a 
hundred-fold  through  the  vast  increase  of  the  military 
and  naval  forces.  To  help  to  meet  all  these  new  ex- 
igencies, her  energies  were  taxed  to  the  extreme,  and 
at  times  there  comes  from  her  a  cry  of  agony  and 
despair.  Resuming  once  again  her  old  inspection  of 
almshouses  and  jails,  she  finds  the  melancholy  condi- 
tion of  things  to  which  she  had  at  the  outset  called 
such  effective  attention,  renewing  itself  through  the 
inadequacy  of  existing  institutions  to  cope  with  the 
growth  of  population  and  the  tide  of  immigration. 
"  It  would  seem,"  she  breaks  out  in  sadness  to  her 
friend  Mrs.  Torrey,  "  that  all  my  work  is  to  be  done 
over  so  far  as  the  insane  are  concerned.  '  Language 
is  poor  to  describe  the  miserable  state  of  these  poor 
wretches  in  dungeon  cells.  I  did  not  think  I  was  to 
find  here  in  this  year  1868  such  monstrous  abuses." 

Still  encouraging  results  continued  to  cheer  her. 
Thus,  May  6,  1868,  Professor  Sillhnan  writes  her 
from  New  Haven,  Conn. :  — 

"  It  is  just  two  years  this  month  since  you  came  here  to 
move  this  matter,  and  now  the  first  patients  are  in  the  New 
Hospital  building.  How  much  we  all  owe  you  for  your 
timely  aid,  courage,  and  energy,  without  which  this  noble 
work  would  not  have  been  undertaken,  certainly  for  many 
years !  And  it  was  all  done  so  quietly  !  The  springs  of 
influence  were  touched  in  a  way  which  shows  how  possible 
it  is  to  do  great  and  noble  things  in  public  assemblies  with- 
out a  lobby  or  the  use  of  money." 

Equally  in  Washington  does  she  meet  a  like  suc- 
cess, while  of  Pennsylvania  she  can  write  :  — 


354  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

"  Tomorrow  I  go  to  the  Northeastern  district  of  the 
State  to  find  a  farm  of  300  acres  for  the  third  hospital,  for 
which  I  have  got  an  appropriation  of  $200,000. 

It  was  well  that  the  encouraging  stimulus  of  yearly 
success  should  thus  come  to  the  woman  nearing  the 
age  of  seventy,  on  whose  shoulders  such  a  burden 
rested.  One  by  one,  she  now  took  up  the  cause  of 
the  many  asylums  she  had  founded,  laboring  indefat- 
igably  toward  their  restoration  and  enlargement  and 
toward  infusing  into  the  minds  of  new  legislatures 
liberal  and  rational  ideas  on  the  whole  subject  of  the 
treatment  of  insanity.  From  many  an  old  asylum, 
too,  in  full  tide  of  prosperity,  there  now  came  to  her 
grateful  remembrances. 

"  I  trust  [wrote  to  her,  in  1871,  Mr.  John  Harper,  treas- 
urer of  the  Dixmont  Hospital  in  Pennsylvania]  when  the 
warm  weather  comes,  you  will  visit  Dixmont  and  see  for 
yourself  what  a  monument  for  humanity  has  been  erected 
and  put  into  prosperous  operation  through  your  foresight 
and  exertions.  Do  you  remember  the  day  in  my  room  in 
the  bank,  when  you  urged  the  establishment  of  a  new  rural 

hospital,   and   Judge opposed   you  so  bitterly?      The 

judge  was  a  man  of  great  eloquence  and  influence,  but  you 
beat  him  to  his  astonishment." 

Earlier,  too,  on  the  occasion  of  the  presentation  of 
a  portrait  of  Miss  Dix  to  this  same  Dixmont  Asylum 
by  an  unknown  citizen  of  Pennsylvania,  had  Mr.  Har- 
per written  the  donor :  — 

"  You  know,  sir,  in  the  olden  time,  each  institution  sacred 
to  charity  had  its  patron  saint.  The  Dixmont  Hospital,  not- 
withstanding our  Protestant  and  iconoclastic  ideas,  has  a 
patroness  whom  we  respect  and  love ;  indeed  who  is  canon- 
ized in  our  affections  quite  as  strongly  as  were  saintly  ladies 
in  the  Mediaeval  Age.  The  mission  of  '  our  Lady '  is  to 


RESUMES  HOSPITAL    WORK,  355 

create  those  noble  institutions  which  aid  in  the  restoration  of 
the  dethroned  reason,  and  Dixmont  Hospital  is  one  of  the 
jewels  which  will  adorn  her  crown  hereafter." 

Enough  has  now  been  said  to  illustrate  the  nature 
of  the  work  that  was  to  engage  Miss  Dix  to  the  end 
of  her  active  days.  Farther  to  particularize  would  be 
but  to  weary  the  reader  with  a  bare  catalogue  of 
achievements,  each  indeed  fraught  with  some  shape  of 
succor  to  the  miserable,  but  as  a  catalogue  a  mere 
burden  to  the  mind.  From  Maine  to  Texas,  from 
New  York  to  San  Francisco,  she  is  henceforth  perpet- 
ually on  the  wing.  The  asylums  scattered  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  have  become  to 
her  her  children.  How  they  are  faring  is  the  one 
thought  of  her  heart.  Everywhere,  on  her  arrival, 
the  keys  of  the  wards  are  freely  handed  to  her,  and 
she  is  allowed  to  wander  round  alone.  She  is  recog- 
nized as  a  "  lunacy  commission  "  in  herself,  so  admi- 
rable a  one,  indeed,  that  at  even  so  late  a  date  as 
187 T,  when  she  was  then  seventy-five  years  of  age,  Dr. 
Charles  F.  Folsom,  of  Boston,  Mass.,  could  say  of  her 
in  his  "  Diseases  of  the  Mind":  "  Her  frequent  visits 
to  our  institutions  of  the  insane  now,  and  her  search- 
ing criticisms,  constitute  of  themselves  a  better  lunacy 
commission  than  would  be  likely  to  be  appointed  in 
many  of  our  States." 

The  inevitable  infirmities  of  age  are  now  growing 
on  her.  She  is  more  silent  and  concentrated,  more  ab- 
rupt and  imperative,  more  the  embodiment  of  habit 
than  of  the  earlier  spontaneity  and  enthusiasm  which 
once  irresistibly  swept  the  legislatures  of  twenty  States 
before  her.  But  her  intellectual  perceptions  are  as 
clear  and  acute  as  ever.  Nothing  escapes  her  eye, 
whether  to  be  commended  as  meritorious  or  taken  ex- 


356  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

ception  to  as  faulty.  No  fear  or  favor  sways  her  a 
hair.  Alike  in  the  asylum  of  her  earliest  superinten- 
dent friend,  or  in  that  of  the  latest  appointee,  she  feels 
that  it  is  the  question  of  the  best  good  for  the  stricken 
and  miserable  that  is  to  dominate  her  own  mind  and 
the  minds  of  all. 

Inevitably  was  there  something  trying  to  the  heads 
of  asylums  in  the  sudden  and  unexpected  visitations  of 
this  exceptional  woman  and  her  equally  sudden  de- 
partures. She  was  the  organized  and  embodied  con- 
science of  the  highest  ideals  of  asylum  management, 
with  a  searching  power  of  intellect  and  character  that 
few  could  encounter  without  a  lurking  feeling  of 
dread.  The  older  members  of  the  profession,  who  for 
long  years  had  known  the  inestimable  value  of  her 
services  to  the  cause  they  stood  for,  understood  that 
no  criticism  would  escape  her  that  was  not  dictated  by 
the  inmost  sense  of  justice  and  kindness,  and,  farther, 
that  a  vast  experience  lay  behind  it  that  would  make 
it  worthy  of  their  best  consideration.  But  many  of 
the  newer  men  in  the  newer  States,  who  "  knew  not 
Joseph,"  felt  inclined  to  take  exception  to  the  quiet 
but  irresistible  air  of  authority  with  which  this  woman, 
of  no  outward  official  position,  would  arrive,  see  all  and 
judge  all,  and,  perhaps,  without  a  word  of  comment, 
leave  them  feeling  that  alike  the  good  and  bad  had 
been  weighed  in  the  scales  of  even-handed  justice. 

A  few  even  were  there  who  were  disposed  to  make 
merry  over  this  "  self -constituted  lunacy  commission  " 
in  the  person  of  a  single,  aged  woman.  The  story  is 
told  of  her  once  going  into  an  asylum  where  she  called 
for  a  trial  of  the  fire-extinguishing  apparatus.  It 
proved  to  be  out  of  order  and  useless,  and  she  spoke 
some  words  of  stern  rebuke.  Later,  it  became  the 


RESUMES  HOSPITAL    WORK.  357 

habit  of  some  of  the  younger  doctors,  of  a  supposedly- 
humorous  turn  of  mind,  to  refer  to  this  incident  as 
furnishing  the  matter  of  an  exquisitely  funny  story. 
Vastly  pleasant  did  they  seem  to  find  it  to  expatiate 
on  the  consternation  the  "  old  lady  "  had  caused  by  her 
appalling  demonstration  that  the  whole  elaborate  sys- 
tem for  saving  the  buildings  from  conflagration  was 
absolutely  worthless. 

A  vastly  amusing  story,  no  doubt,  and  yet  one  can 
hardly  avoid  charitably  wishing  that  a  select  few  of 
such  humorously  minded  young  doctors  might  be 
compelled  to  serve  an  apprenticeship  on  a  Cunard  or 
White  Star  steamship.  What  would  they  witness 
there  ?  This :  that  the  instant  a  certain  signal  is 
sounded,  whether  in  the  dead  of  night,  or  at  break  of 
day,  or  when  dinner  or  supper  is  in  full  tide,  every 
waiter,  every  bedroom  steward,  every  deck-hand,  every 
officer,  drops  on  the  spot  whatever  he  is  at,  and  runs 
with  lightning  speed  to  take  his  appointed  place  at 
the  pumps  or  at  the  handling  of  the  hose.  Should  it 
then  turn  out  —  even  on  this  mere  formal  review  — 
that  the  fire  apparatus  would  not  work,  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  the  nature  of  the  reception  at  the  captain's 
hands  any  responsible  officer  would  get,  who  showed 
a  disposition  to  regard  the  miscarriage  as  a  capital 
joke.  Miss  Dix  had  had  too  fearful  experience  of  in- 
sane asylums  burning  to  the  ground  and  of  scores  of 
wretched  victims  perishing,  not  to  feel  that  such  a 
failure  ought  to  be  branded  on  the  spot  as  guilt  and 
crime.1 

1  Even  as  this  biography  is  going-  through  the  press,  there  comes 
from  Montreal,  Canada,  the  news  of  the  total  destruction  by  fire  of  an 
immense  insane  asylum  there,  in  which  one  hundred  miserable  vic- 
tims were  roasted  alive.  The  asylum  was  provided  with  a  complete 


LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

Perhaps,  then,  a  fairer  and  more  discriminating 
picture  can  hardly  be  drawn  of  the  salutary  impres- 
sion left  by  these  comings  and  goings  of  Miss  Dix  on 
minds  kindred  in  moral  earnestness  with  her  own, 
than  is  found  in  the  ensuing  letter  of  Mrs.  Harriet  C. 
Kerlin,  wife  of  the  superintendent  of  the  institution 
for  feeble-minded  children  at  Elwyn,  Penn.  :  — 

"  Among  our  many  visitors,  there  has  never  been  one  so 
ready  to  praise  the  good  found,  and  so  agreeably  to  reprove 
mistakes  or  failures.  This  may  not  always  have  been  her 
characteristic,  but  surely  we  met  only  the  gentle,  considerate 
side  of  her  nature,  so  that  when  Dr.  Kerlin 'said, '  Miss  Dix 
won't  you  come  up  to  see  where  our  teachers  have  rooms  ?  ' 
her  reply, '  Oh,  no  !  doctor,  I  have  never  found  any  suffering 
among  officers  of  an  institution/  was  so  frankly  and  half- 
wittily  spoken,  it  carried  no  offensive  sarcasm. 

"  If  she  were  found  at  5  o'clock  A.  M.  in  an  unusual  place, 
watching  the  early  movements  of  our  large  family,  her 
kindly  manner  of  telling  what  she  had  seen,  right  or  wrong, 
made  us  feel  that  sympathy  with  the  superintendence 
prompted  her  desire  for  as^  perfect  management  as  possible, 
and  that  no  spirit  of  pleasure  in  spying  out  wrong  had 
caused  her  unexpected  early  walk.  She  never  gossiped 
about  the  weakness  or  faults  of  others.  Her  judgment  was 
given  with  consideration  of  accompanying  circumstances. 
Her  language,  voice,  and  manner  were  thoroughly  gentle 
and  lady-like,  yet  so  strong  was  she  in  intelligence  and 
and  womanhood  that  at  times  I  ranked  her  alone,  and 
above  all  other  women." 

The  picture  drawn  in  this  letter  of  the  inexorable 
fidelity  tempered  with  kindness  and  gentleness,  of  Miss 

fire-extinguishing1  apparatus.  Only,  as  it  turned  out,  the  hose  was 
disconnected  from  the  pumps,  and  the  wrench  mislaid.  Before  con- 
nection could  be  made  the  flames  had  got  too  much  headway  to  be 
arrested. 


RESUMES  HOSPITAL    WORK.  359 

Dix,  weighed  in  connection  with  the  fire-apparatus 
story  and  her  terrible  power  of  rebuke,  when  rebuke 
was  demanded,  will  serve  together  to  call  up  a  vivid 
idea  of  the  manner  of  woman  she  was  in  these  last 
years  of  her  active  life.  Pleasanter  it  no  doubt  was 
to  receive  the  visitation  of  duly  appointed  State  in- 
spectors, who  would  beam  graciously  and  ignorantly 
on  the  excellent  condition  in  which  they  found  every- 
thing, take  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  medicinal  room  of 
the  establishment,  and  then  adjourn  to  a  good  dinner. 
But  this  was  not  Miss  Dix's  way.  From  the  hour  in 
which  the  terrible  abyss  of  human  suffering  had  been 
opened  to  her,  and  a  sacred  voice  within  had  sum- 
moned her  to  consecrate  her  life  to  the  service  of  these 
miserable  ones,  her  faith  had  never  wavered  that  God 
had  eternally  ordained  her  for  this  special  mission. 
It  was  to  be  no  child's  play,  but  a  stern  and  awful 
ordeal.  Every  day  made  it  clearer  to  her  that  "  Eter- 
nal Vigilance  is  the  Price  "  of  justice  and  mercy  to- 
ward these  outcasts  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   LAST    OF   EAKTH. 

FREQUENT  allusion  has  been  make  in  past  chapters 
to  the  eagerness  with  which  Miss  Dix  seized  every 
opportunity  to  extend  the  blessings  of  a  rational 
and  humane  treatment  of  insanity  into  ^11  quarters  of 
the  world.  Very  pleasant,  then,  is  it  to  narrate  one 
more  happy  result  of  these  widespread  efforts,  the 
knowledge  of  which  came  to  her  as  late  as  in  1875. 

Years  before,  when  first  a  charge  d'affaires  was 
sent  to  Washington  from  Japan  to  represent  its  inter- 
ests before  the  United  States  Government,  had  she 
sought  his  acquaintance,  and  held  long  and  earnest 
interviews  with  him  on  the  subject  that  lay  nearest 
her  heart.  Fortunately,  in  Jugoi  Arinori  Mori  she 
found  a  man  of  great  intellectual  capacity  and  large 
humanity.  Readers  of  this  biography  will  recall  the 
shock  produced  in  the  minds  of  all  true  friends  of 
Japan  by  his  assassination  a  year  or  more  ago  in  his 
own  country  at  the  hands  of  a  fanatic.  He  had  by 
that  time  become  acknowledged  as  the  foremost  states- 
man in  his  native  land.  From  him,  came  to  Miss 
Dix,  in  1875,  a  letter  which  was  one  more  illustration 
of  the  wisdom  of  a  favorite  maxim  with  her,  "  Sow 
beside  all  waters !  " 

"ToKio,  JAPAN,  November  23,  1875. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  Dix,  —  During  the  long  silence,  do 
not  think  I  have  been  idle  about  the  matter  in  which  you 


THE   LAST  OF  EARTH.  361 

take  so  deep  an  interest.  I  have  given  the  subject  much  of 
my  time  and  attention,  and  have  successfully  established  an 
asylum  for  the  insane  at  Kiyoto,  and  another  in  this  city  is 
being  built  and  will  soon  be  ready  for  its  work  of  good. 
Other  asylums  will  follow,  too,  and  I  ardently  hope  they 
will  be  the  means  of  alleviating  much  misery. 
"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  ARINORI  MORI." 

Two  more  asylums  in  far-away  Japan,  with  others 
very  likely  to  follow,  were  now  to  be  added  to  the 
thirty-two  she  had  already  been  the  instrument  of 
either  founding  outright  or  greatly  enlarging.  She 
was  accustomed  to  mark  each  one  on  a  map  with  the 
sign  of  the  cross.  Could  all  the  prisons  on  new  and 
better  plans  she  carried  bills  for,  and  all  the  alms- 
houses  she  caused  to  be  thoroughly  reconstructed  be 
added  to  these,  and  then  all  brought  vividly  before  the 
mind's  eye,  how  amazing  would  be  the  impression 
left! 

It  was  noted  by  benevolent  minds  in  these  latter 
days  of  Miss  Dix's  career  that,  whenever  any  great  ca- 
lamity occurred  like  the  terrible  fires  which  destroyed 
such  large  portions  of  Chicago  and  Boston,  she  was 
sure  soon  to  appear  on  the  spot  with  sums  of  money 
she  had  collected  from  her  many  friends,  and  quietly 
and  judiciously  searching  out  for  herself  where  help 
was  most  needed,  or  what  persons  already  on  hand 
could  be  relied  on  to  expend  the  fund  most  wisely, 
would  seek  to  do  her  part  in  mitigating  the  wide-spread 
distress.  Not  human  beings  alone,  but  the  brute  cre- 
ation likewise  appealed  to  her  unfailing  compassion. 
Thus  among  her  other  projects  of  relief  in  these  days 
was  that  of  setting  up  a  drinking  fountain  in  a  densely 
thronged  part  of  Boston  where  she  had  noticed  that 


362  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

the  draught- horses  were  subjected  to  the  hardest  work. 
It  was  her  application  to  the  Poet  Whittier  to  send 
her  the  translation  of  an  Arabic  inscription  cut  on  the 
curb  of  a  similar  fountain  in  the  East,  an  inscription 
the  beauty  of  which  had  struck  her  when  he  had  re- 
peated it  on  a  previous  occasion,  which  called  out  from 

him  the  ensuing  letter :  — 

"  OAK  KNOLL,  ISth  Sth  Mo.,  1879. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  cannot  recall  the  Arabic  in- 
scription I  referred  to  for  the  fountain,  and  have  written 
one  myself,  taking  it  for  granted  that  the  fountain  was  to 
be  thy  gift,  though  thee  did  not  say  so. 

u  Such  a  gift  would  not  be  inappropriate  for  one  who  all 
her  life  has  been  opening  fountains  in  the  desert  of  human 
suffering,  —  who,  to  use  Scripture  phrase,  has  '  passed  over 
the  dry  valley  of  Baca,  making  it  a  well.' 

"  With  love  and  reverence  thy  friend, 

"JOHN  G.  WHITTIER." 

"  Stranger  and  traveler  ! 

Drink  freely  and  bestow 
A  kindly  thought  on  her 

Who  bade  this  fountain  flow  ; 
Yet  hath  for  it  no  claim 

Save  as  the  minister 
Of  blessing1  in  God's  name." 

Whatever  the  strength,  however,  or  whatever  the 
power  of  the  inspiring  motive,  there  must  come  an 
end  to  every  mortal  tether.  In  October,  1881,  worn 
out  with  fatigue,  Miss  Dix  went  for  rest  to  one  of  her 
hospital  homes,  the  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  Asylum, 
which  she  was  destined  never  again  to  leave.  Pre- 
vious to  this,  the  last  characteristic  glimpse  of  her 
is  caught  in  the  following  account  related  by  Dr. 
George  F.  Jelly,  former  Superintendent  of  the  Mc- 
Lean Asylum. 

She  arrived  at  my  house  in  Boston,  said,  in  sub- 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH.  363 

stance,  Dr.  Jelly,  after  nightfall  one  bitter,  snowy 
winter  evening.  She  seemed  chilled  to  the  marrow, 
and  said  she  would  go  straight  to  bed.  I  offered  her 
my  assistance  in  mounting  the  staircase,  but  she  de- 
clined every  aid.  The  furnace  draughts  were  opened 
for  greater  heat,  a  large  fire  was  kept  blazing  in  the 
grate  of  her  bedroom,  my  wife  piled  five  or  six  blan- 
kets on  her,  and  I  administered  some  warming  drink. 
Spite  of  all  she  shivered  with  cold  and  would,  I  felt 
sure,  succumb  to  pneumonia.  She  was  on  one  of  her 
tours  of  inspection,  and  had  ordered  the  carriage  to 
come  for  her  in  the  early  morning.  Nothing  could 
move  her  to  change  her  plan,  and  when  morning  came 
she  was  up  and  ready  to  start.  It  was  still  a  bitter 
snowstorm.  I  begged  her  at  least  to  let  me  go  with 
her  to  the  station,  for  I  feared  she  might  die  before 
she  reached  her  destination.  No  !  she  would  go  alone. 
She  was  used  to  such  things,  she  said,  and,  as  soon  as 
she  had  got  through  her  work  in  New  England,  would 
go  farther  South,  where  she  always  became  better 
soon. 

Something  pathetic  and  painful  is  there  in  such  a 
narrative  of  exposure  in  extreme  old  age ;  something 
sad  and  hard  to  be  reconciled  to  in  this  refusal  of  so 
much  as  the  helping  hand  of  a  strong  man  in  mount- 
ing the  staircase  on  tottering  feet,  —  the  refusal,  too, 
by  one  whose  whole  long  life  had  been  a  ceaseless  min- 
istry to  others.  Still,  the  anecdote  is  too  characteris- 
tic to  be  omitted,  revealing,  as  it  does,  such  persist- 
ence to  the  end  of  the  indomitable  will  power  that  had 
led  on  to  such  vast  achievement. 

From  Trenton,  however,  there  was  to  be  no  more 
going  forth.  Those  thousand-mile  journeys  from 
Halifax  to  Texas,  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco, 
were  now  over  forever. 


364  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  D1X. 

To  the  great  credit  of  the  managers  of  the  New 
Jersey  State  Asylum,  no  sooner  was  it  known  that  Miss 
Dix  was  seriously  ill  in  the  asylum,  and  unlikely  ever 
again  to  be  strong  enough  to  leave  it,  than  they  called 
a  meeting  and  passed  a  unanimous  vote,  inviting  her 
to  end  her  days  under  the  roof  of  the  institution  she 
had  founded,  as  its  loved  and  revered  guest.  The 
managers  of  this  institution  had  always  manifested 
toward  her  singular  gratitude  and  respect.  Roomy 
and  comfortable  apartments  were  assigned  her,  where 
she  preferred  they  should  be,  under  the  pediment  of 
the  great  Greek  portico  which  forms  the  facade  of  the 
main  building,  apartments  commanding  a  superb  view 
of  the  park-like  grounds,  the  open  country,  and  the 
beautiful  sweep  of  Delaware  Eiver. 

The  private  resources  of  Miss  Dix  would  at  this 
time  have  amply  sufficed  to  maintain  her  in  comfort 
during  her  declining  years.  But  it  was  an  indication 
of  her  high  self-respect  of  character,  that  she  should 
have  felt  the  fitness  of  thus  ending  her  days  as  the 
honored  guest  of  one  of  the  many  institutions  she  had 
founded,  rather  than  in  any  private  house.  For  half 
a  century  she  had  had  no  home,  but  had  been  in  every 
fibre  of  her  being  a  public  character.  The  asylums 
were  her  children,  and  that,  when  worn  out  and  in- 
capacitated for  farther  service,  one  of  these  children 
should  thus  take  her  and  care  for  her  beneath  its  roof- 
tree,  seemed  to  her  but  in  the  natural  order  of  family 
love  and  duty.  Moreover,  the  passion  of  doing  for 
others  had  become  absolute  in  her  nature.  She  had 
a  large  list  of  dependents  for  whose  wants  she  was 
always  providing,  and  the  one  luxury  that  remained 
to  her  was  the  power  of  being  able  to  continue  this  to 
the  end.  Beyond  the  grave,  even,  stretched  the  longing 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH,  365 

0 

to  be  still  of  use  on  earth.  An  intense  solicitude  had 
now  taken  possession  of  her  to  preserve  unbroken  the 
capital  of  her  property,  and  to  leave  it  in  trust  so  that 
the  income  of  it  should  be  devoted  in  perpetuity  to 
charitable  objects.  Thus  the  instinct  of  saving,  which 
in  extreme  eld  age  is  the  almost  invariable  accom- 
paniment of  human  nature,  assumed  in  her  case  the 
character  of  what  had  ever  been  the  master  passion  of 
her  life. 

For  more  than  five  years  Miss  Dix  was  now  des- 
tined to  linger  on  in  her  hospital  home.  They  were 
years  of  great  suffering  from  exhaustion,  and  the 
pain  of  the  steadily-advancing  disease  of  which  she 
died,  —  ossification  of  the  lining  membranes  of  the 
arteries.  Imprisonment  within  the  narrow  walls  of 
her  rooms  came  doubly  hard  to  her,  as  always  to 
overpoweringly  active  natures.  Still  no  complaint 
escaped  her  lips.  "  It  was  all  right  it  should  be  so," 
she  said,  "it  was  God's  will,  only  it  was  hard  to 
bear."  Life  had  at  no  period  seemed  child's  play  to 
her,  but  a  stern  though  merciful  ordeal.  Her  Bible 
and  collections  of  sacred  poetry  were  now  her  stay 
and  comfort.  In  hymns,  especially,  the  utterance  of 
the  suffering  and  triumphant  ones  of  all  the  ages,  she 
heard  the  voices  that  came  home  to  her  with  the 
greatest  power  and  peace.  Never  a  letter  she  wrote  to 
dear  friends  with  trembling  hand  that  did  not  contain 
some  of  these  cherished  lines. 

Meanwhile,  old  friends  did  not  forget  her.  From 
far  places  would  they  travel  to  spend  an  hour  with 
her,  while  the  older  superintendents  of  asylums  kept 
her  duly  informed  of  all  that  was  going  on  in  the 
world  in  which  she  had  so  long  lived,  or  sent  her  from 
their  annual  meetings  greetings  of  respect  and  love. 


366  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

% 

A  few  of  the  letters  that  came  to  her  in  her  asylum 
home  will  serve  to  make  vivid  the  nature  and  sweet- 
ness of  the  consolations  that  helped  her  through  these 
last  five  years  of  imprisonment,  weariness,  and  pain. 
They  came  in  great  numbers,  alike  from  private  and 
from  well-known  persons. 

December  31,  1882,  writes  knightly  Dr.  Kirkbride 
as  follows :  — 

"In  three  hours  more,  1882  will  belong  to  the  past. 
May  that  which  follows  it  bring  to  you,  my  most  valued  and 
honored  friend,  all  the  happiness  that  can  come  from  a  life 
devoted  to  good  works  and  to  the  relief  of  the  afflicted." 

Shortly  after,  comes  greeting  from  her  once  pupil 
and  life-long  friend,  Mrs.  John  Kebler,  of  Cincin- 
nati :  — 

"  I  never  think  of  you  as  grown  old.  You  always  come 
to  me  as  I  knew  you  first,  crowned  with  rich  brown  hair, 
the  like  of  which  no  one  else  ever  had.  Of  all  your  pupils 
I  am  sure  none  loved  you  as  I  did  and  do.  Few  days  of 
all  my  life  have  been  unblessed  by  loving,  grateful  thoughts 
of  the  gracious,  graceful  teacher  and  friend.  Always  shall 
I  connect  with  you,  if  I  remain  longer  than  you,  that  lovely 
hymn  of  Whittier,  and  my  prayer  shall  be,  — 

"  *  Still,  let  thy  mild  rebukings  stand 

Between  me  and  the  wrong, 
And  thy  dear  memory  serve  to  make 
My  faith  in  goodness  strong.'  " 

May  6, 1882,  arrives  a  remembrance  of  cheer  and 
consolation  from  Mr.  Whittier  himself :  — 

"  OAK  KNOLL,  DANVERS,  MASS. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  am  glad  to  know  that  thou  art 
with  kind  friends,  and  as  comfortable  as  possible  under  the 
circumstances.  Thou  hast  done  so  much  for  others  that  it 
is  right  for  thee  now,  in  age  and  illness,  to  be  kindly  minis- 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH.  367 

tered  to.  He  who  has  led  thee  in  thy  great  work  of  benev- 
olence will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee. 

"  With  a  feeling  of  almost  painful  un worthiness,  I  read 
thy  overkind  words  as  regards  myself.  I  wish  I  could  feel 
that  I  deserved  them.  But  compared  with  such  a  life  as 
thine,  my  own  seems  poor  and  inadequate.  But  none  the 
less  do  I  thank  thee  for  thy  generous  appreciation. 

"  May  the  blessing  of  our  Father  in  Heaven  rest  upon 
thee,  dear  friend !  Believe  me  always  and  gratefully  thy 
friend,  "  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER." 

Of  course  so  old  and  tried  a  friend,  so  kindred  a 
spirit  with  her  own  in  love  and  sacrifice,  as  Rev.  Wil- 
liam G.  Eliot,  D.  D.,  of  St.  Louis,  did  not  forget  her 
now  in  her  loneliness  and  pain.  From  his  many  let- 
ters, let  the  following  short  extract  and  accompanying 
lines  serve  to  show  the  loving  tenor :  — 

"  We  think  and  speak  of  you  very  often,  and  in  spirit  I 
spend  many  hours  with  you  daily.  Last  night  young  Mr. 
Nichols,  grandson  of  your  old  friend  in  Portland,  was  here, 
and  we  talked  of  you  an  hour.  .  .  .  After  he  left  me,  I 
wrote  these  lines  before  going  to  bed.  They  are  a  part  of 
the  truth,  the  whole  of  which  cannot  be  told.  ...  If  love 
and  gratitude  and  prayer  could  save  you  from  all  suffering 
and  anxiety,  no  pain  nor  loneliness  of  feeling  would  ever 
reach  you. 

"  Dear  Sister,  in  thy  lonely  hours  of  suffering1  and  pain, 

Take  comfort !     The  ten  thousand  prayers  cannot  ascend  in  vain, 

From  hearts  which  thou  hast  comforted  and  homes  which  thou  hast 

cheered, 

And  children,  saved  from  ignorance,  whose  pathway  thou  hast  cleared, 
From  loyal  hearts  and  homes,  wherever  they  are  found, 
In  palaces  and  cottages,  with  peace  and  honor  crowned. 

"  Dear  Sister,  thou  art  not  alone,  God's  angels  hover  near ; 
His  presence  is  thy  sure  defense,  then  what  hast  thou  to  fear  ? 


35S  Lll-E   OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

The    '  good   fight '    thou  hast   nobly  fought    and    truly   '  kept    the 

faith  ; ' 

The  '  crown '  awaits  thee,  Sister  dear,  the  '  victory  over  death  ;  ' 
Take  courage  then,  dear  friend !     The  '  prize  '  is  almost  won  ; 
Hark!     'Tis  the  Saviour's  voice  we  hear,   'Servant  of   God,   well 

done!  '" 

"  Your  Brother-friend, 

«W.  G.  ELIOT." 

Similar  testimonials  of  love  and  veneration  from 
men  and  women  foremost  in  all  good  works  through- 
out the  country,  as  well  as  from  kindred  spirits  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  might  be  indefinitely 
multiplied.  Let  them  conclude,  however,  with  an  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  of  one  of  the  younger  men  in  the 
battle  of  humanity,  General  S.  C.  Armstrong,  a  man 
who,  brave  as  the  bravest  throughout  the  war  for  the 
preservation  of  the  Union,  as  soon  as  peace  sounded, 
"  beat  his  sword  into  a  plowshare  and  his  spear  into  a 
pruning  hook,"  and  thenceforth  labored  with  the  zeal 
of  an  apostle  to  make  self-respecting  and  useful  Amer- 
ican citizens  out  of  the  ignorant  and  degraded  negro 
freedmen.  In  his  first  effort  to  reduce  to  order  the 
chaos  and  anarchy  of  the  whole  region  about  Hamp- 
ton, Virginia,  and  to  establish  an  industrial  and 
Christianizing  school  of  instruction  there,  he  had 
found  no  stancher  friend  or  wiser  adviser  than  Miss 
Dix. 

"  You  are  one  of  my  heroes,"  he  now  wrote  to  her  in  her 
last  retreat.  "  My  ideal  is  not  one  who  gives  the  flush  and 
strength  of  youth  to  good  work,  —  for  who  can  help  doing 
so  when  a  chance  opens  !  He  is  a  traitor  who  declines  the 
chance,  just  as  is  he  who  does  n't  fight  for  his  country  when 
it  needs  him,  and  he  can  possibly  go.  But  you  kept  in  the 
field  long  past  your  best  days.  Your  grit  and  resolve  have 
been  wonderful.  Faithfully  yours, 

"S.  C.  ARMSTRONG." 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH.  369 

Two  years  after  the  death  of  Miss  Dix,  there  ap- 
peared in  the  "  New  York  Home  Journal,"  of  Septem- 
ber 11,  1889,  an  article  embodying  reminiscences  of 
her  traits  of  character  and  of  incidents  in  her  career. 
It  was  from  the  pen  of  a  valued  personal  friend  of 
her  earlier  years,  Mrs.  S.  C.  P.  Miller.  The  picture 
drawn  in  it  of  these  last  days  of  Miss  Dix's  life  in 
her  asylum  home  is  at  once  so  touching,  and  so 
stamped  with  that  exceedingly  rare  endowment  of  hu- 
man beings,  the  power  to  see  what  is  actually  before 
their  eyes,  as  to  render  it  a  positive  addition  to  any 
attempt  to  interpret  her  character. 

"  Accidentally  meeting  [says  Mrs.  Miller]  an  oldtime 
friend  from  Washington,  she  mentioned  a  recent  visit  to 
Miss  Dix. 

"  Eagerly  inquiring  about  her,  I  learned  that  she  was  a 
confirmed  invalid,  occupying  apartments  in  the  Insane  Asy- 
lum at  Trenton,  which  had  been  given  to  her  by  the  State 
of  New  Jersey  in  acknowledgment  of  her  agency  in  secur- 
ing the  erection  of  the  building.  At  the  earliest  moment 
I  went  over  to  see  her,  sending  up  my  card,  with  much  mis- 
giving as  to  her  memory  of  me.  Immediately  I  was  taken 
to  her  rooms  in  the  tower.  She  was  glowing  in  her  wel- 
come. *  I  told  them  to  bring  you  right  up,  for  I  was  so  im- 
patient to,  see  my  friend  that  I  would  not  wait  a  minute.' 

"  She  was  propped  up  in  bed  and  greatly  altered.  She 
was  unable  to  walk,  and  for  several  years  had  not  even  been 
carried  outside  of  her  own  rooms,  and  to  this  utter  helpless- 
ness were  added  paroxysms  of  intense  pain.  '  The  doctor 
does  not  encourage  me  to  hope  that  I  shall  ever  be  better,' 
she  told  me  ;  '  but  he  comforts  me  with  the  assurance  that 
I  am  in  no  danger  of  ever  losing  my  reason.'  .  .  . 

"  She  was  curious  to  know  whether  I  would  have  recog- 
nized her,  so  curious,  indeed,  as  to  embarrass  me  in  the  re- 
ply that  I  should  not  have  done  so  in  an  unexpected  meet- 


370  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

ing.  ...  I  seized  the  occasion  to  say  :  '  You  should  be  at 
the  pains,  Miss  Dix,  to  arrange  that  you  go  down  to  poster- 
ity in  that  beautiful  portrait  of  you  in  the  Atheneum  at 
Boston.'  A  smile  of  satisfaction  brightened  her  face  at  the 
suggestion,  and  I  was  amused  to  see  that  even  the  good 
and  great,  and  strong  and  old,  possessed,  in  common  with 
their  weaker  sisters,  a  keen  relish  of  a  gentle  insinuation  of 
personal  beauty. 

"  It  was  evident  to  me  that  her  helplessness  did  not  ex- 
tend either  to  her  head  or  hands,  for  soon  I  saw  that  her 
warmest  interest  was  still  flowing  in  its  long-accustomed 
channel,  and  that  from  her  sick  room  lines  of  communica- 
tion ran  in  every  direction  to  the  outside  world.  She  spoke 
of  the  gift  made  to  her  of  her  rooms  with  much  gratifica- 
tion. Her  sense  of  home  seemed  wholly  centered  in  them. 
The  cosey  little  bedroom  opened  into  a  small,  bright  parlor, 
from  the  windows  of  which  was  an  exquisite  view  of  the 
grounds  and  distant  landscape.  .  .  . 

"  '  Are  you  strong  enough,'  I  asked  her  on  one  occasion, 
*  to  use  your  pen  as  in  former  times  ?  '  Summoning  the 
nurse  she  had  some  loose  sheets  handed  to  me,  saying,  i  I 
wrote  these  and  had  them  printed  by  the  Indian  boys  at 

Hampton  ;  but, ,  I  can't  hold  lines  long  in  my  memory.' 

They  were  short  hymns,1  and  her  difficulty  was  to  frame  a 
verse  and  hold  it  in  mind  until  she  could  get  it  on  paper 
either  by  her  own  hand  or  that  of  another.  ,  .  . 

"  She  was  unfeignedly  interested  in  good  work  done  by 
other  hands,  and  her  manner  in  discussing  it,  that  of  the 
fellow-laborer,  not  of  the  master-workman.  I  never  de- 
scried the  faintest  soupcon  of  such  assumption,  nor  did  I 
ever  detect  any  personal  ambition  in  her  great  work.  She 
never  sought  notoriety.  Not  even  in  the  seclusion  of  her 
last  years,  when  it  would  have  been  so  natural  for  her  to  en- 
tertain me  with  tlje  exciting  scenes  of  her  previous  history, 

1  A  favorite  occupation  of  Miss  Dix  throughout  life  was  the  writ- 
ing- of  hymns.  They  were  devout,  heroic,  pleading1,  and  submissive  ; 
but  she  possessed  in  no  marked  degree  tho  lyric  faculty. 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH.  371 

did  she  ever  drag  in  her  past  enterprises  and  successes. 
Present  work  seemed  to  fill  her  mind,  not  her  former  tri- 
umphs. 

"  Of  course  her  friendliness  extended  to  my  family.  I 
took  my  daughters  to  see  her,  and  under  the  impulse  of  her 
ruling  passion  she  inquired  what  schemes  of  usefulness  en- 
tered into  their  young  lives.  One  of  them  detailed  to  her 
the  effort  she  was  making  to  benefit  the  children  in  her 
church.  On  a  subsequent  visit,  months  afterward,  she 
asked  how  it  went  on.  I  pictured  its  progress  with  some 
warmth,  she  listening  sympathizingly  and  now  and  then 
nodding  approvingly,  when  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  with  a 

beaming  smile,  *  I  know  S would  like  to  have  her  fingers 

in  my  purse  ;  now  would  n't  she  ?  '  I  promptly  declined  any 
gift,  telling  her  she  already  had  objects  enough  of  her  own 
to  prosecute ;  but  she  would  not  be  denied,  and  a  crisp,  new 
note,  so  large  that  I  protested  against  it,  was  sent  with  the 
message,  '  that  of  all  the  agencies  of  charity  the  school  was 
the  most  hopeful.' 

"It  is  a  mistake  that  age  has  power  to  cast  out  the  evil 
instincts  of  human  nature.  It  often  intensifies  them.  An- 
ger and  bitterness  scowl  along  the  twilight  of  many  a  bril- 
liant career,  as  the  dark  clouds  gather  upon  the  evening 
horizon  of  some  exquisite  day.  With  Miss  Dix  this  was 
not  so  ;  her  heated,  excited  day  merged  into  a  quiet,  peace- 
ful close.  In  the  full  tide  of  work  she  had  been  called 
imperious  and  arbitrary.  These  traits  may  have  been  neces- 
sary ;  certainly,  they  were  powerful  aids  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  her  splendid  designs  ;  but  as  the  night  drew  on,  her 
character  mellowed,  and  all  that  was  most  lovable  in  her 
nature  appeared  as  her  life  slowly  faded  away. 

"  She  suffered  at  times  agonies  of  pain,  and  her  ability  at 
self -entertainment  lessened  rapidly  in  the  last  year.  She 
had  become  extremely  deaf,  her  sight  also  was  much  im- 
paired, and  in  her  increasing  bodily  feebleness  I  imagine 
that  her  well-stored  memory,  from  which  she  had  drawn  so 
largely  for  her  comfort  and  refreshment,  now  often  deserted 


372  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

her.  Kind  friends  sought  to  aid  her  failing  senses  by  the 
best  helps  that  science  could  supply,  but  in  vain.  It  was  pit- 
iful to  have  her  say  to  me,  *  Try  to  put  this  tube  in  my  ear 
so  as  not  to  pain,  and  yet  allow  me  to  hear  what  you  say.' 
And  of  her  eyes,  too,  she  said  in  a  sort  of  despairing  attempt 
at  cheerfulness,  '  I  do  not  think  it  right  to  get  such  numbers 
of  spectacles  that  nobody  else  can  use.  and  which  do  me  no 
good.' 

"  I  saw  her  only  a  few  months  before  her  death,  when  she 
had  become  so  weak  as  to  allow  me  to  stay  only  half  an 
hour.  Feeble  as  she  was,  however,  with  that  singular 
thoughtfulness  for  others  which  never  left  her,  she  endeav- 
ored to  entertain  the  daughter  I  had  brought  with  me.  As 
the  interview  wore  on  it  became  evident  to  me  that  she 
wished  to  say  something  confidential,  and  at  her  suggestion 
I  tried  to  manceuver  the  faithful  nurse  out  of  hearing. 

'*  Failing  ignominiously,  I  said, '  Oh,  never  mind  now  ;  tell 
me  when  I  come  again.'  '  Ah,  yes,  if  I  am  here ;  if  I  am 
here.'  *  Oh,'  I  replied,  quite  too  warmly  I  feared  to  meet  her 
wishes,  for  I  thought  death  would  be  welcomed  by  her,  — 
'  Oh,  I  hope  you  will  be  here  for  many  a  year  to  come.'  She 
started  up  with  agitated  eagerness  and  said,  with  wild  ex- 
citement, *  My  dear  friend,  if  you  hope  that,  pray  for  it :  pray 
that  I  may  be  here.  I  think  even  lying  on  my  bed  I  can 
still  do  something.'  She  fell  back  upon  her  pillow  exhausted, 
whilst  I,  moved  and  surprised  beyond  measure,  sat  down 
that  she  might  have  time  to  recover  her  composure.  I  then 
rose  to  go.  She  threw  her  arms  round  me,  saying  with  un- 
wonted tenderness,  '  O  darling,'  and  I  had  parted  with  my 
old  friend  forever.  S.  C.  P.  MILLER. 

"  PRINCETON,  N.  J." 

Constant  touches  throughout  this  narrative  reveal  in 
Mrs.  Miller  the  genuine  observer.  With  the  second 
childhood  of  extreme  old  age  and  the  diminishing 
power  of  self-restraint,  almost  inevitably  does  vanity 
prompt  the  veteran  soldier,  sailor,  statesman  or  trav- 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH.  373 

eler  to  give  way  to  the  temptation  of  rehearsing  to 
others  the  flattering  story  of  the  battles  or  sea-fights 
he  has  fought  or  has  won,  the  great  debates  or  peril- 
ous adventures  in  which  he  has  borne  a  heroic  part. 
Of  all  this  no  trace  is  found  in  Miss  Dix.  To  her 
when  a  thing  is  done,  it  is  done.  The  present  absorbs 
her  while  it  yet  offers  any  good  to  do.  Aged,  broken, 
and  full  of  suffering,  still  for  all  her  religious  faith, 
for  all  her  yearning  after  a  higher  spiritual  realm  be- 
yond, she  does  not  want  to  die.  "  I  think  even  lying 
on  my  bed,  I  can  still  do  something."  The  last  excla- 
mation, too,  "  O  darling,"  is  the  one  that  occurs  over 
and  over  again  in  the  broken,  fragmentary  letters  she 
at  this  period  writes  to  dear  friends,  proving  what  a 
world  of  tenderness  underlay  that  self-controlled,  ad- 
amantine character  with  which  she  had  fronted  the 
world  in  her  long  warfare  for  the  outcast  and  despised. 

As  long  as  strength  lasted  it  remained  the  habit  of 
Miss  Dix  to  sit  during  the  declining  hours  of  sunlight 
at  her  window,  feasting  her  eyes  on  the  beauty  of  the 
landscape  and  communing  with  Him,  of  whom  all  this 
visible  glory  was  to  her  the  perpetual  manifestation. 
There  below  her  stretched  the  park-like  expanse  of 
the  grounds  of  the  asylum,  and  there,  sitting  under 
the  trees  or  wandering  along  the  paths  in  the  fullest 
enjoyment  of  liberty  possible  to  their  sad  condition, 
were  the  poor  children  of  affliction,  whose  former  mis- 
eries in  chains  and  cages  had  first  started  in  her  the 
vow  of  consecration  never  to  the  end  to  be  broken. 

Now,  in  contrast,  could  she  look  down  on  them  min- 
istered to  by  the  uttermost  that  could  be  done  by  sci- 
ence, humanity,  religion,  and  the  healing  charms  of 
nature.  And  yet  in  the  hours  of  reverie  to  which  this 
visible  scene  must  inevitably  have  led  on,  how  equally 


374  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

distinctly  to  imagination  must  there  have  often  risen 
before  her  mind's  eye,  in  twenty  different  States 
stretching  over  half  a  continent  in  America,  from  the 
pines  and  maples  of  Newfoundland  to  the  live  oaks 
and  palmettos  of  Louisiana,  as  well  as  in  Europe  and 
in  far-away  Japan,  the  repetition  of  the  same  blessed 
picture.  He  whom  she  had  so  loved  and  followed, 
the  Son  of  Man  who  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto 
but  to  minister,  —  how  often  in  those  sacred  hours 
must  she  have  felt  the  fullness  of  his  benediction,  "  I 
was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  drink ;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took 
me  in ;  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  ;  I  was  sick,,  and  ye 
visited  me ;  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me." 

The  end  came  on  the  evening  of  July  17,  1887. 
For  a  month  she  had  been  growing  steadily  weaker. 
Still  with  her  habitual  fortitude,  and  that  desire  to 
pass  unobscured  through  the  portal  of  death  so  char- 
acteristic of  believing  natures,  she  had  begged  her 
dear  friend  Dr.  Ward  to  avoid  the  use  of  anodynes, 
and  to  tell  her  distinctly  when  the  last  hour  was  at 
hand.  This  was  not  to  be.  Although  Dr.  Ward  had 
given  her  his  pledge  that  he  would  apprise  her  as 
soon  as  he  saw  the  end  near  by,  it  came  as  unex- 
pectedly to  him  as  to  her.  He  was  sitting  at  the  tea- 
table  when  the  nurse  suddenly  ran  down  to  report 
that  Miss  Dix  was  sinking  away.  Rapidly  mounting 
the  stairs,  on  opening  the  door,  just  as  his  eye  fell  on 
her,  she  breathed  a  quiet  sigh  and  all  of  earth  was 
over. 

The  burial  took  place  in  Mount  Auburn  Cemetery, 
near  Boston,  Mass.  Occurring  when,  in  the  height  of 
the  summer  heats,  so  many  are  away  at  the  sea-shore 
or  in  the  mountains,  a  few  friends  only,  among  them 


THE  LAST  OF  EARTH.  375 

Dr.  John  W.  Ward,  Dr.  Charles  H.  Nichols,  and  Mr. 
Horace  A.  Lamb,  stood  by  the  grave.  Communica- 
ting to  her  English  friends  the  intelligence  of  her  last 
illness  and  death,  Dr.  Nichols,  who  had  been  so  long 
and  intimately  associated  with  her  throughout  her 
great  career,  closed  with  these  words  his  letter  to  Dr. 
D.  Hack  Tuke  :  — 

"  Thus  has  died  and  been  laid  to  rest  in  the  most 
quiet,  unostentatious  way  the  most  useful  and  distin- 
guished woman  America  has  yet  produced." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

SUMMARY. 

A  CONDENSED  summary  of  the  incidents  and  spirit 
of  a  career  already  so  fully  illustrated  as  that  of  Miss 
Dix  seems  hardly  called  for.  Her  story  is  one  that 
tells  itself  as  it  goes  along.  Still,  it  may  be  well  in 
a  few  words  to  gather  in  hand  the  separate  threads, 
and  weave  them  into  a  combined  picture  of  the  essen- 
tial characteristics  of  her  life  and  work. 

The  childhood  of  Miss  Dix  was,  as  has  been  seen, 
bleak,  humiliating,  and  painful ;  more  so,  indeed,  than 
it  has  been  deemed  needful  to  record.  By  the  age  of 
twelve,  the  prematurely  thoughtful  little  girl  clearly 
foresaw  that  she  would  have  to  take  into  her  own 
hands  the  problem  of  her  future  destiny,  as  well  as  of 
the  destiny  of  her  two  child  brothers.  How  bitter  her 
earliest  experience  was,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that 
never  to  her  dying  day  would  she  unlock  her  lips  on 
the  subject  to  her  most  intimate  friend. 

At  an  age,  then,  when  most  children  are  carelessly 
living  in  their  little  world  of  dolls,  the  proud  and  sen- 
sitive child  keenly  felt  that  she  would  have  to  conquer 
for  herself  and  others  a  foothold  in  the  world.  At 
once  her  inborn  decision  of  character  displayed  itself. 
She  ran  away  from  her  mortifying  and  belittling 
present  that  she  might  secure  the  possibility  of  a  more 
promising  future.  Independent  she  would  be,  and 
master  of  the  means  of  carrying  out  what  was  then 


SUMMARY  377 

the  strongest  desire  in  the  heart  of  the  premature 
child  -  mother.  To  fit  herself  to  become  a  teacher 
seemed  the  one  way  to  achieve  her  purpose.  It  was 
the  New  England  ideal  of  honorable  work  ;  it  fell  in 
with  her  own  thirst  for  knowledge  ;  and  it  opened  up 
a  field  for  forcefully  impressing  herself  on  others,  al- 
ways so  predominant  a  trait  of  her  character.  Thus 
from  the  start  were  the  intrepidity  and  rational  clear- 
ness of  her  mind  revealed. 

Underlying,  however,  this  exceptional  energy  and 
ambition,  there  lay  a  temperament  of  extreme  sensitive- 
ness, of  a  sensitiveness,  indeed,  so  acute  as  physically  to 
betray  itself  all  through  her  girlhood  and  young  wom- 
anhood in  a  quick  flushing  of  the  face  whenever  she  was 
addressed.  All  her  views  of  life  took  on  an  idealistic 
shape.  She  craved  the  society  of  refined,  intellectual, 
and  morally  superior  people.  She  reveled  in  poetry, 
she  was  a  worshiper  of  intellectual  greatness,  she  was 
full  of  heart-break  for  affection,  she  drank  in  passion- 
ately the  religious  prophecies  of  teachers  like  Chan- 
ning.  And  yet  her  love  of  knowledge,  beauty,  and 
spirituality  were  at  the  last  remove  from  selfish  ab- 
sorption in  the  pursuit  of  them.  Poverty,  ignorance, 
and  degradation  distressed  her  as  keenly  as  their  oppo- 
sites  allured  her  ;  and  the  moment  she  could  command 
the  means  she  began  to  gather  together  the  children 
of  neglect  and  misery,  to  make  them  sharers  in  a 
richer  life. 

Every  ideal  in  her  mind  thus  tended  irresistibly  to 
practical  benevolent  action,  the  religious  fervor  of  her 
nature  finding  vent  in  enthusiastic  personal  love  of 
him  who  went  about  doing  good,  and  who  yearned 
to  make  all  life  a  perpetual  feast  of  love  and  beauty 
to  which  from  the  highways  and  hedges  the  outcast 


378  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  D1X. 

should  be  invited  in,  the  wedding  garment  thrown  over 
their  rags  and  misery. 

There  is,  then,  no  way  of  understanding  the  later 
career  of  this  outwardly  so  self-sustained  and  com- 
manding woman,  apart  from  the  full  recognition  of 
the  intensity  of  an  emotional  temperament  pouring  out 
the  molten  metal  which  shaped  every  lineament  in  the 
gradually  consolidating  bronze  statue.  This  tempera- 
ment was  at  once  the  exaltation  and  the  despair  of  her 
youth,  and  the  hidingplace  of  the  power  of  her  on- 
coming days.  What  kept  her  sane  through  the  terri- 
ble strain  of  her  later  years  was  the  relief  she  got  in 
the  passionate  love  and  study  of  nature,  in  her  power 
of  swiftly  kindling  to  ideal  visions  of  what  could  and 
should  be  made  real,  and  in  adoring  communion  with 
God,  through  whose  help  she  rested  assured  all  things 
were  possible.  Thus  even  in  the  extreme  of  physical 
exhaustion,  as  after  her  memorable  campaign  iu  Scot- 
land, the  inextinguishable  fervor  of  her  nature  leaps 
up  into  its  old  wonted  flame,  the  moment  she  hears  of 
a  new  field  of  promise  in  the  Island  of  Jersey.  "  I 
shall  see  their  chains  off,"  she  enthusiastically  writes 
in  a  letter  already  quoted  in  a  previous  chapter,  "  I 
shall  take  them  into  the  green  fields,  and  show  them 
the  lovely  little  flowers  and  the  blue  sky,  and  they 
shall  play  with  the  lambs  and  listen  to  the  song  of  the 
birds,  and  '  a  little  child  shall  lead  them ! '  This  is 
no  romance,  this  all  will  be  if  I  get  to  the  Channel 
Islands,  with  God's  blessing."  The  romantic  ideal, 
"  they  shall  play  with  the  lambs,"  the  splendid  self- 
confidence,  "  if  /  get  there,"  the  devout  recognition, 
"  with  God's  blessing,"  —  here  lay  the  three  root  mo- 
tive-powers of  the  woman. 

Throughout  the  school-keeping  period  of  Miss  Dix's 


SUMMARY.  379 

life,  the  contradictory  elements  in  her  nature,  intense 
and  even  perilous  sensibility  held  down  and  often 
trampled  under  foot  by  rigid,  ascetic  will-power,  were 
never  really  harmonized.  Sensibility  to  ideals  dic- 
tated for  herself  and  for  her  pupils  a  height  of  con- 
secration to  knowledge,  duty,  and  service  beyond  the 
possibility  of  realization,  while  inflexible  will  insti- 
tuted rules  and  practices  which  took  no  count  of  flesh 
and  blood,  and  were  severe  and  monastic  to  an  ex- 
treme. Periods  of  exhaustion  and  irritability,  with 
subsequently  the  swift  advance  of  threatening  pul- 
monary disease,  were  the  penalty  she  herself  paid  ; 
while,  in  the  case  of  the  children,  some  looked  back 
to  their  school  experience  with  pain,  and  others  de- 
clared that  they  owed  to  it  the  best  they  had  ever 
been  or  done  in  life.  With  Miss  Dix,  it  ended,  as 
has  been  seen,  in  the  utter  collapse  of  her  physical 
powers,  her  mind,  however,  proudly  sustained  by  the 
feeling  that  no  sharpness  of  suffering  had  ever  moved 
her  to  flinch,  that  she  had  made  a  home  for  her 
younger  brothers  and  launched  them  on  the  world, 
had  achieved  independence,  and  finally  had  set  a 
stamp  on  large  numbers  of  young  lives  that  would  be 
indelible  for  good  as  long  as  they  should  live. 

Next  follows  the  eighteen  months  of  extreme  illness 
and  languishing  in  Liverpool,  England,  —  the  jubilee 
year  of  her  life  as  she  always  termed  it,  the  period, 
for  all  its  pain  and  all  its  near  prospect  of  death,  in 
which  she  felt  she  had  been  permitted  the  most  luxu- 
riously to  surrender  herself  to  leisure,  beauty,  domes- 
tic love,  and  spiritual  conmmunion  with  Heaven.  It 
wrought  a  marked  softening  and  enriching  influence 
on  her  character.  Still,  it  was  destined  to  be  fol- 
lowed on  her  return  to  America  by  the  saddest  and 


380  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

most  disenchanted  period  of  her  earthly  experience. 
Reaching  home  a  feeble  invalid,  her  career  as  a  teacher 
over,  lonely  and  with  no  distinct  prospect  before  her 
for  the  future,  she  felt  herself  an  exile  in  her  own 
land. 

Now  first  came  to  her  the  unifying  power  which  was 
to  fuse  into  one  harmonious  whole  the  contradictory 
elements  of  her  nature.  Once  she  was  brought  into 
contact  with  the  abyss  of  human  misery  opened  up  in 
the  condition  of  the  outcast  insane  in  Massachusetts, 
and,  as  she  soon  discovered,  all  over  the  Union,  then 
forthwith  in  the  overpowering  call  of  God  to  dedicate 
herself  to  their  championship*  she  became  revealed  to 
herself  and  revealed  to  others.  Had  she  stood  and 
simply  gazed  down  into  that  abyss  of  woe,  it  would 
have  paralyzed  so  sensitive  a  nature.  But  high  above 
all  the  moaning  and  despair  she  heard  the  angel  song 
of  the  new  gospel  of  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to  them 
that  sat  in  darkness,  revealed  to  the  world  through 
the  humane  inspiration  of  such  sons  of  consolation  as 
Pinel  and  Tuke.  To  the  fervid  apostleship  of  this, 
to  her,  "  new  Jerusalem  descending  like  a  bride  from 
the  heavens"  would  she  consecrate  her  life.  "  Look 
on  this  picture  and  on  this,"  was  henceforth  the  pole 
star  of  her  guidance. 

Here,  then,  it  at  once  became  clear  was  a  nature  de- 
manding a  large  field  on  which  to  deploy  its  forces, 
forces  which  shut  up  to  anything  lesser  must  inevita- 
bly have  preyed  on  herself  and  preyed  on  others. 
Now  could  she  plan  great  enterprises.  Now  could 
'  she  measure  her  indomitable  moral  will  against  the 
apathy  and  selfishness  of  whole  legislatures,  and  finally 
kindle  in  their  hearts  the  enthusiasm  of  humanity. 
Now  could  she  command  and  dispose  of  enormous 


SUMMARY.  :;,si 

pecuniary  resources,  the  outcome  of  public  taxation. 
Now  could  she  cause  in  twenty  States  vast  structures 
to  rise  out  of  the  ground,  which  should  take  into  the 
merciful  keeping  of  their  quiet,  beauty,  and  skill  those 
heretofore  chained,  scourged,  and  pinched  with  cold. 
Now  could  she  create  the  national  conditions  of  a 
great  school  of  insanity,  and  open  a  career  to  the  em- 
inent men  who  were  destined  to  carry  so  far  the  name 
and  fame  of  her  native  land.  No  wonder  she  grew 
happier.  She  was  made  for  such  happiness.  No 
wonder  she  grew  healthier.  The  caged  and  drooping 
eagle  in  her  nature  was  now  afloat  on  the  great  spaces 
in  which  alone  it  could  find  vigor  and  joy. 

Then  forthwith  was  it  seen  how  the  very  powers, 
the  excess  of  which  had  been  faults  in  a  more  re- 
stricted sphere,  proved  the  exact  means  to  her  great 
ends.  The  very  persistency  of  will  which  exercised 
on  minor  matters  had  often  been  trying  to  others  now 
took  the  leadership  of  the  "  forlorn  hope,"  and  be- 
came the  assurance  of  victory  on  victory,  making 
strong  men  like  her  friend  Dr.  Buttolph  write  her,  "  I 
have  learned  from  you  never  to  despair."  The  very 
self-confidence  which,  shut  up  to  little  things,  might 
easily  have  been  characterized  as  assumption,  now 
inspired  her  to  seemingly  impossible  feats  of  moral 
daring,  which  became  their  own  splendid  justification. 
The  very  asceticism  which  exerted  in  a  round  of  triv- 
ial duties  had  been  injurious  to  mind  and  body 
now  became  power  to  "  endure  hardness  as  a  good 
soldier  of  Christ,"  the  spur  to  "  scorn  delights  and 
live  laborious  days."  The  very  reticence  which,  in 
social  life,  had  proved  a  barrier  to  closer  intimacy,  and 
often  had  defeated  the  craving  for  affection  so  in- 
tense in  her  self-repressed  nature  now  enabled  her  to 


382  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA   L.  DIX. 

hold  her  own  counsel,  and,  while  the  repository  of  the 
secret  history  of  two  thirds  of  the  asylums  in  the  land, 
never  in  a  single  instance  to  betray  confidence.  Fi- 
nally, that  very  yearning  to  relieve  misery  and  that 
passionate  wrath  over  its  longer  existence,  which  left 
to  themselves  would  either  have  unnerved  or  have  con- 
sumed her,  now  became  the  reacting  motive  to  plunge 
into  practical  work,  and  achieve  mastership  over  every 
detail  of  hospital  construction  and  hospital  manage- 
ment. 

The  marvelous  series  of  campaigns  of  pure  human- 
ity won  by  this  single-handed  woman,  and  resulting  in 
the  establishment  of  such  a  host  of  asylums  has  already 
been  sufficiently  described.  Imagination  is  feeble  to 
call  up  the  extent  and  enduring  character  of  this  her 
work.  It  is  only  by  one  who  has  journeyed  over  the 
many  States  of  the  Union,  and  seen  with  the  bodily 
eye  the  enormous  structures  and  park-like  grounds  she, 
with  the  wand  of  her  moral  genius,  made  to  start  out  of 
the  earth,  that  it  can  be  adequately  conceived.  Then 
first  the  beholder  feels  the  force  of  the  words  written 
her  as  far  back  as  1850  by  President  Fillmore :  — 

"  Accept  my  sincere  thanks  for  the  print  of  the  Hospital 
for  the  Insane  in  Tennessee.  .  .  .  When  I  looked  upon  its 
turrets  and  recollected  that  this  was  the  thirteenth  monu- 
ment you  had  caused  to  be  erected  of  your  philanthropy,  I 
could  not  help  thinking  that  wealth  and  power  never  reared 
such  monuments  to  selfish  pride  as  you  have  reared  to  the 
love  of  mankind." 

It  will  be  recalled  from  previous  chapters  how  fre- 
quently the  impression  made  by  the  absolute  consecra- 
tion of  Miss  Dix  to  her  work  had  led  many  superin- 
tendents and  private  benefactors  of  asylums  all  over 
the  land,  to  speak  of  her  as  "our  Lady,"  "our  Patron 


SUMMARY.  383 

Saint,"  —  a  strain  of  Medievalism  certainly  not  very 
common  in  practical,  unimaginative  America.  Indeed, 
in  a  memorial  notice  written  after  her  death  by  Dr. 
Daniel  Hack  Tuke,  of  England,  the  same  idea  recurs 
when,  in  alluding  to  his  own  visit  to  America,  he 
says,  "  The  writer  has  observed  in  at  least  one  asylum 
chapel  the  portrait  of  this  saintly  woman  on  the  wall 
where  in  a  Roman  Catholic  Church  the  Virgin  Mary 
would  have  been  placed."  None  can  doubt  that  had 
she  lived  in  earlier  ages  of  the  world  her  works  of 
mercy  would  have  led  to  her  actual  canonization, 
and  that,  on  the  altar  pieces  of  churches,  her  halo- 
crowned  figure,  marked  by  some  especial  symbol, 
would  have  become  as  familiar  a  sight  as  those  of  St. 
Catherine  of  Siena,  or  Santa  Barbara.  Surely,  the 
poor  dazed  and  broken  minds  of  the  demented  could 
invoke  from  a  higher  realm  no  more  merciful  or  pre- 
vailing spirit. 

It  is,  however,  an  admirable  custom  in  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  that,  whenever  its  prelates  are  sum- 
moned to  deliberate  the  momentous  question  of  adding 
to  the  sacred  calendar  a  new  name,  one  out  of  their 
number  should  be  appointed  to  enact  the  part  of  what 
is  termed  the  "Advocatus  Diaboli,"  or  Devil's  Ad- 
vocate. His  duty  it  is  to  rake  out  of  every  hidden 
quarter  and  every  unguarded  hour  of  life  the  worst 
that  can  possibly  be  urged  against  the  candidate  for 
canonization.  A  world-old  idea  this,  one  already  im- 
aginatively glorified  as  far  back  as  in  the  days  of 
the  Book  of  Job,  where,  before  the  court  of  God  and 
His  angels,  appears  Satan,  the  Adversary,  to  challenge 
the  name  of  the  man  pronounced  "  perfect  and  upright, 
and  one  that  feared  God,  and  eschewed  evil."  In  the 
light  of  the  frailty  of  human  nature,  even  at  its  best 


384  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

estate,  the  custom,  let  it  be  repeated,  is  an  admirable 
one,  and  one  that  falls  in  with  every  natural  instinct 
of  justice ;  only  with  the  needful  proviso  that  the  pre- 
ternatural acuteness  of  the  Adversary  for  discovering 
spots  even  on  the  face  of  the  sun  shall  not  be  suffered 
to  outweigh  the  entire  mass  of  counter  testimony  to 
the  fact  that,  after  all  is  said,  the  sun  remains  a  re- 
splendent luminary. 

The  only  serious  faults  that  were  ever  urged  against 
the  character  of  Miss  Dix  were  that  in  minor  matters 
many  people  thought  her  too  much  inclined  to  take 
the  reins  into  her  own  hands,  too  inflexible  and  dic- 
tatorial in  her  treatment  of  the  judgment  of  others, 
and  that  at  times  her  self-consciousness  was  oppres- 
sive. These  were  instinctive  elements  in  her  nature, 
manifest  from  childhood :  in  reality  without  the  strong 
tap  root  in  her  being  from  which  they  sprang,  she 
could  never  have  achieved  her  enormous  work.  They 
are  elements  of  character  the  praise  or  blame  of  which 
turns  wholly  on  what  other  qualities  of  mind  are  allied 
with  them.  United  with  clear  ideas  and  noble  pur- 
poses they  lead  on  to  grand  results ;  and  it  is  only 
when  bound  up  with  narrow  thoughts  and  petty  per- 
sonal ends  that  they  prove  morally  censurable.  No 
great  character  can  keep  always  at  its  high-water 
mark.  There  come  times  of  exhaustion  and  disen- 
chantment when  the  higher  qualities  of  the  intellect 
and  soul  are  in  abeyance,  and  the  automatic  habit 
of  the  underlying  native  temperament  alone  asserts 
itself. 

Emphatically,  the  automatic  habit  of  Miss  Dix's 
nature  was  that  of  imperial  command,  the  instinct  of 
taking  into  her  own  hands  the  decision  of  momentous 
questions  involving  the  welfare  or  misery  of  thou- 


SUMMARY.  385 

sands,  and  of  undauntedly  insisting,  no  matter  in  the 
face  of  whom,  —  in  the  face  of  Legislature,  Congress, 
Parliament,  or  Pope,  —  this  way,  in  the  name  of  the 
Father  of  the  Fatherless  !  this  way,  and  no  otherwise, 
shall  it  be.  For  it,  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
who  elsewise  would  have  continued  to  languish  in  mis- 
ery had  occasion  to  rise  up  and  call  her  Blessed ! 
That  this  great  tidal  set  of  a  powerful  nature  should 
at  times  in  minor  matters,  and  when  no  large  idea 
was  longer  present,  have  swept  persistently  on,  was 
a  fault  of  character  of  which,  when  the  most  is  made, 
no  serious  detraction  from  her  greatness  remains. 
The  older  superintendents  of  asylums,  who  recog- 
nized the  immense  debt  of  obligation  under  which 
they  lay  to  her,  smiled  good-humoredly  at  such  trifling 
peculiarities,  knowing  full  well  what  a  stronghold  jus- 
tice and  mercy  ever  maintained  in  her  heart,  and  that  it 
was  after  all  a  "  godly  jealousy  "  for  the  sacred  name  of 
the  institutions  she  yearned  over  that  made  her  so  in- 
sistent that  no  jot  or  tittle  should  pass  from  their  law. 
The  faults,  then,  of  the  character  of  Miss  Dix  be- 
longed to  the  class  of  what  have  been  aptly  named  the 
"  faults  of  one's  virtues,"  that  is,  they  grew  out  of  the 
excess  of  good  and  great  qualities.  The  phrase  is  a 
most  significant  one.  Not  that  a  fault  does  not  still 
remain  a  fault,  and  a  virtue  a  virtue.  And  yet  it 
would  be  but  the  barest  justice  to  add  that  of  all  her 
feats  of  dominating  obstacles,  the  greatest  feat  of  them 
all  was  the  success  with  which  through  long,  long 
years  she  dominated  the  extremes  of  her  own  sensitive, 
fiery,  and  commanding  spirit.  Throughout  her  whole 
asylum  life,  it  was  her  struggle,  and  almost  always  suc- 
cessful struggle,  to  hide  the  imperious  element  in  her 
nature  under  the  cover  of  an  unfailing  patience,  sweet- 


386  LIFE   OF  DOROTHEA  L.  DIX. 

ness  of  persuasion,  and  utter  sinking  of  self  in  the 
cause  of  the  poor  outcasts  for  whom  she  was  pleading. 
"I  perceive,"  wrote  to  her  President  Fillmore  in  1850, 
during  her  long  struggle  in  Washington,  "  that  you 
feel  anxious  and  sad.  I  cannot  wonder  at  it !  I  won- 
der your  patience  has  held  out  so  long  and  that  you 
can  speak  with  such  equanimity.  But  yours  is  a  good- 
ness that  never  tires,  a  benevolence  that  never  wearies, 
a  confident  hope  that  never  seems  to  desert  you.  None 
but  the  most  disinterested  and  self-sacrificing  can  have 
such  faith,  or  display  such  all-conquering  perseverance." 
Did  then,  persons  at  times  accuse  her  of  being  inter- 
fering and  dictatorial  in  smaller  matters  ?  Be  it  so ! 
She  had  come  heroically  by  the  fault,  even  when  it 
was  a  fault.  For  by  what  had  it  been  bred  in  her? 
Simply  by  this,  that  all  through  her  long  and  self- 
sacrificing  public  career  of  over  forty  years  it  had 
been  the  very  burden  of  God  laid  on  her  shoulders,  to 
interfere  now  with  brutal  almshouse  keepers,  now 
with  a  low  and  besotted  state  of  public  opinion,  now 
with  selfish  politicians,  now  with  narrow  partisan  leg- 
islatures, yes,  and  to  persist  in  interfering  till  the  voice 
of  justice  and  mercy  prevailed.  Surely  such  virtues 
were  resplendent  enough  to  swallow  up  in  their  light 
the  few  "  faults  of  her  virtues." 

The  prescribed  limits  of  this  biography  forbid  the 
introduction  here  of  the  grateful  and  detailed  tributes 
paid  after  her  death  to  the  memory  of  Miss  Dix,  at  the 
annual  convention  of  the  Association  of  Superinten- 
dents of  American  Insane  Asylums,  as  well  as  embodied 
in  the  yearly  reports  of  the  many  and  vast  institutions 
she  had  founded.  With  scarcely  the  faintest  note  of 
dissent  they  were  in  one  vein  of  praise  and  veneration. 
It  was  for  the  "judgment  of  the  competent "  that  she 


SUMMARY.  387 

alone  ever  cared,  and  the  seal  of  this  was  indelibly 
stamped  on  her  name  and  work.  Had  she  taken 
thought  of  mere  personal  fame  and  yielded  to  the  con- 
stant appeals  of  governors  and  State  legislatures,  her 
name  carved  in  stone  would  be  read  to-day  over  the 
portals  of  more  stately  structures  than  were  ever  from 
the  foundation  called  after  any  private  man  or  woman. 
As  it  was,  the  Dix  Ward  of  the  McLean  Asylum, 
Somerville,  Mass.,  and  Dixmont  Hospital,  Perm.,  are 
the  only  institutions,  where,  except  for  her  portrait 
hanging  in  so  many  of  their  chapels,  there  is  anything 
visible  to  suggest  her  name. 

Very  pleasant  is  it,  however,  to  round  off  this  sum- 
mary of  the  more  public  characteristics  of  so  salient  a 
character  with  the  notice  of  a  more  private  trait  pe- 
culiarly feminine  in  its  nature,  —  a  straw,  perhaps, 
but  still  a  straw  which  reveals  the  main  set  of  the 
current  of  a  life  dedicated  to  going  about  doing  good. 

Although  herself  an  unmarried  woman,  who  in 
early  life  had  met  a  blight  of  her  affections  after  an 
engagement  with  a  cousin,  Miss  Dix  retained  till  late 
in  her  days  a  romantic  fondness  for  bringing  together 
those  she  thought  fitted  to  make  loving  helpmates  to 
one  another,  and  then  leaving  it  to  the  elective  affini- 
ties to  complete  the  process  of  domestic  attraction  and 
cohesion.  In  this  eager  disposition  of  the  woman 
who  had  never  known  the  blessedness  of  a  home  of 
her  own  to  enact  the  part  of  special  providence  in  se- 
curing a  happy  home  for  others,  her  judgment  again 
and  again  proved  as  clear  as  her  heart  was  warm.  One 
series  of  letters  was  there  left  among  her  papers  —  from 
a  superintendent  and  his  wife  both  long  since  dead, 
and  whom  none  now  living  can  name  —  that  were  one 
continuous  chant  of  benediction  to  the  Lady  Bountiful, 


388  LIFE  OF  DOROTHEA  L.   DIX. 

who  had  so  tenderly  and  delicately  brought  them  to- 
gether, and  secured  them  nineteen  years  of  unbroken 
domestic  love. 

Innumerable  likewise,  as  illustrating  the  purely 
womanly  side  of  Miss  Dix's  nature,  were  the  letters 
from  sick  rooms  and  homes  of  bereavement,  containing 
each  some  such  endearing  message  as :  "In  this  I  place 
a  couple  of  Heart' s-ease  blossoms  from  our  garden. 
They  seem  to  me  peculiarly  your  flower." 


INDEX. 


Adams,  Lucy  S.,  227. 

Advocatus  Diaboli,  the,  his  duties,  3S3. 

Alexandria,  Va.,  51. 

Andrew,  Gov.  John  A.,  332. 

Autonelli,  Cardinal,  288,  292. 

"  Arcadia,"  the  wreck  of  the,  221. 

"  Arctic,"  the  ill-fated  steamship,  202. 

Armstrong,  Gen.  8.  C.,  368. 

Ashley,  Lord,  238. 

Asylum,  curious  internal  history  of  an, 

312. 
Audubon,  the  naturalist,  33. 

Baltimore,  asylum  at,  70. 

Bancroft,  Mrs.  J.  P.,  294. 

Barnard,  Rev.  Charles,  17. 

Bell,  Hon.  Hugh,  letters  from,  142, 143, 

221. 
Bell,  Dr.  L.  V.,  letters  from,  86,87,177, 

191. 
Bethlehem  Hospital,  treatment  of  insane 

at,  60,  61. 

Blagden,  Thomas,  153,  154,  245. 
Bohemia,  the  women  of,  305. 
Bremer,  Frederika,  letters   from,  162, 

H53,  164  ;  her  national  pride,  163. 
Brown,  Hon.  Albert  G.,  speech  by,  196, 

Browning,  Robert,  50. 

Bryce,  Dr.  P.,  106. 

Burghardt,  Dr.  Caroline  A.,  341. 

Burke,  Edmund,  175. 

Butler,  Cyrus,  100,  245. 

Butler,  Dr.  J.  S.,  94. 

Butler,  Gen.  B.  F.,  333. 

Butler  Hospital,  endowment  of,  102. 

Calvinism,  system  of,  55. 

Cameron,  Simon,  Secretary  of  War,  336. 

Channing,  Dr.  W.  E.,  15,  22,  36,  44,  85, 

88. 
Channel  Islands,  The,  sad  condition  of 

things  in,  269;   their  relation  to  the 

United  Kingdom,  269. 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  a  burial  at,  317. 
Clark,  Sir  James  A.,  256. 
Cleaveland,  Dr.  J.  M.,  310. 
Collamore,  Dexter,  227. 
Collhis,  E.  K.,  his  act  of  kindness,  203. 
Commission  Royal,  report  of,  252,  253, 

254. 

Conolly,  Dr.  John,  69,  308. 
Constantinople,  a  good  asylum  at,  299. 
Coxe,  Dr.  James,  251,  256. 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  201. 


Couthon,  the  Jacobin,  63. 

Darlington,  William,  194. 

Dix,  Dr.  Elijah,  his  birthplace,  4 ;  his 
practice  as  physician  in  Worcester,  4  ; 
his  deeds  for  promoting  the  welfare 
of,  5 ;  incident  illustrating  his  hon- 
esty, 5  ;  an  anecdote  of,  6 ;  his  removal 
to  Boston,  6 ;  his  purchases  in  Maine, 
6 ;  the  cliaracter  of,  7. 

Dix,  Joseph,  his  character,  1  ;  his  ab- 
normal tendencies,  2  ;  the  reason  for 
his  living  at  Hampden,  7. 

Dixmont  Centre,  the  burial  place  of  Dr. 
Elijah  Dix,  7. 

Dixmont  Hospital,  7. 

Dix,  Dorothea  Lynde,  her  birth,  1 ;  her 
early  days,  1  ;  her  trials,  2 ;  reasons 
for  her  going  to  Boston,  2,  3 ;  charac- 
ter of  her  parents,  3 ;  memories  of  her 
grandfather,  7 ;  her  home  with  her 
grandmother,  7  ;  effect  upon  her  char- 
acter, 8  ;  the  loss  of  her  childhood,  11 ; 
the  indomitable  purpose  of  her  life, 
12;  her  school  at  Orange  Court,  14; 
her  duties  at  the  Dix  mansion,  15 ; 
her  school  in  the  Dix  stable,  16;  her 
character  in  those  days,  18  ;  extract  of 
a  letter  written  at  midnight,  19 ;  her 
loneliness  and  constant  work,  21  ;  her 
health  in  1824, 21 ;  her  self-reproaches, 
22 ;  friendship  of  Dr.  William  Ellery 
Channing  with,  22  ;  her  winter  life  in 
Philadelphia  and  Alexandria,  24  ;  the 
effect  of  suffering  upon  her  character, 
25  ;  a  striking  piece  of  self-portraiture, 
26 ;  her  visit  to  the  Island  of  St.  Croix, 
27 ;  her  enthusiasm  for  the  study  of 
natural  history,  28 ;  bad  effects  of  a 
tropical  climate  upon,  29 ;  her  views 
upon  West  India  slavery,  30,  31,  32 ; 
her  efforts  to  improve  the  condition  of 
soldiers,  34;  return  from  St.  Croix, 
35 ;  her  grand  objects,  35 ;  arrange- 
ments of  her  school,  37 ;  letters  from 
children  to,  39-41  ;  her  health  fails, 
41 ;  results  of  her  work  as  a  teacher, 
41-43;  sails  for  England,  44;  her 
one  long  holiday,  46;  returns  from 
England,  51 ;  her  attention  directed 
to  the  condition  of  the  insane,  59  ; 
an  imperative  demand  answered  by, 

72  ;  her  undertaking  of  a  great  career, 

73  ;  her  labors  at  East  Cambridge  jail, 

74  ;  her  first  memorial  to  a  State  leg- 
islature,  76-82;    the    success  of    her 


390 


INDEX. 


memorial,  83-85;  her  legislative  vic- 
tory, 90;  wonderful  qualities  of  her 
voice,  91 ;  a  conviction  forced  upon 
her,  93;  her  occupations  in  1841- 
1843,  94 ;  her  articles  on  astonishing 
tenacity  of  life,  96-100;  her  second 
victory,  102,  103;  begins  her  larger 
work,  104  ;  labors  in  New  Jersey,  105, 
106 ;  a  marked  secret  of  her  success, 
107  ;  her  method  of  dealing  with  State 
legislatures,  109  ;  her  "  first-born  asy- 
lum child,"  110,  111;  her  severest 
work,  114 ;  her  letter  to  Mrs.  Hare, 
114 ;  type  of  legislator  not  dreaded  by, 
116 ;  compliment  not  relished  by,  118 ; 
her  letter  to  Miss  Heath,  123  ;  increas- 
ing difficulties  of  her  work,  124-126; 
her  wise  economy  of  her  strength, 
127 ;  incidents  of  her  southern  jour- 
ney, 128,  129  ;  her  untiring  work  suc- 
cessful, 137  ;  tribute  of  honor  to,  138 ; 
her  work  in  the  British  provinces,  141 ; 
her  triumph  over  apathy  and  igno- 
rance, 144,  145;  the  names  on  her 
"battleflag  of  .humanity,"  145;  the 
secret  of  her  power,  146-148 ;  the 
adoration  of  the  Southern  people  for, 
148 ;  her  avoidance  of  side  issues,  148  ; 
all  local  questions  ignored  by,  152  ;  an- 
other class  of  duties  thrust  upon,  155  ; 
appointment  made  by  her  recommen- 
dation, 156;  the  impression  made  upon 
others  by,  159  ;  her  meeting  with 
Frederika  Bremer,  161 ;  her  project 
for  work  abroad,  162  ;  enters  the  na- 
tional arena,  166 ;  her  first  memorial 
to  Congress,  169  ;  her  personal  labors 
with  the  members,  176 ;  her  views  of 
the  situation,  178 ;  her  temporary  re- 
pulse, 179  ;  her  second  memorial  to 
Congress,  180  ;  at  her  old  place  in  the 
library  at  the  Capitol,  181 ;  her  second 
defeat,  186 ;  renews  her  national  cam- 
paign, 189 ;  her  first  signal  victory, 
188  ;  her  victory  changes  to  defeat, 
191 ;  her  departure  to  Europe,  201 ; 
her  indefinite  plans,  202;  the  ruling 
passion  of  her  life  illustrated,  204  ;  her 
way  of  taking  things  easier,  205  ;  her 
tour  in  Ireland,  207  ;  her  visit  to  Sable 
Island,  214 ;  her  efforts  in  the  life- 
saving  service,  226-228;  credit  unre- 
servedly given  to,  239;  her  exciting 
railway  race,  244 ;  her  return  to  Scot- 
land, 250 ;  the  fidelity  of  her  revela- 
tions fully  indorsed,  25 ;  suffers  from 
a  severe  inflammatory  attack,  258;  a 
characteristic  exclamation,  262  ;  her 
determination  to  visit  the  Channel  Isl- 
ands, 265 ;  her  course  of  action  there, 
268  ;  signal  proof  of  her  well-balanced 
mind,  273 ;  the  terms  of  honor  be- 
stowed upon,  276 ;  her  visit  to  Switz- 
erland, 279;  her  intense  enjoyment  of 
Alpine  scenery,  280 ;  she  proposes  to 
face  the  linguistic  problem,  281  ;  her 
description  of  the  journey  to  Constan- 
tinople, 282-285;  her  audience  with 


Pius  IX.,  289 ;  her  resemblance  to 
Catherine  of  Siena,  290;  the  return 
from  Italy,  295-297  ;  the  completion 
of  her  continental  investigations,  306 ; 
her  arrival  in  New  York,  307;  frequent 
appeals  to  her  judgment,  313 ;  her 
journey  to  Texas,  319  ;  her  dislike  of 
sleeping  cars,  322;  she  answers  the 
call  for  volunteers,  335  ;  the  care  and 
responsibility  thrust  upon,  338 ;  her 
zeal  leads  sometimes  to  intemperate 
action,  341 ;  proposed  reward  to,  342  ; 
her  work  at  the  close  of  the  war,  344^ 
her  labor  in  behalf  of  a  soldier's  monu- 
ment, 346-348;  she  returns  to  her 
former  work,  349 ;  the  infirmities  of 
"Increasing,  355;  her  last  visit  to 
Trenton,  363  ;  her  last  hours,  373-375 ; 
summary  of  her  life,  376-387. 

Dodd,  Hon.  Joseph  S.,  110,  112,  118. 

Drummond,  H.,  238. 

Duncan,  Alexander,  102. 

Dyer,  Major  General,  347. 

Earle,  Dr.  Pliny,  remarks  by,  68. 
"  Eleanora,"  loss  of  brig,  220. 
Eliot,  George,  291. 
Eliot,  Dr.  W.  G.,  139,  367. 
Ellsmere,  Earl  of,  209. 
Ellice,  E.,  238,  239. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  58. 

Felton,  Samuel  M.,  333-335. 

Ferrer,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  44. 

Fillmore,  President  Millard,  382,  386. 

Fitzwilliam,  N.  H.,  death  of  her  mother 

at,  48. 

Folsom,  Dr.  Charles  F.,  355. 
Forbes,   Capt.    R.    B.,   correspondence 

with,  25. 
Fortress  Monroe,  soldiers'  monument  at. 

346. 
Fry,  Elizabeth,  a  kindred  spirit,  33. 

Gardner,  Dr.  Sylvester,  5 . 

Gannett,  Rev.  Ezra  S.,  86. 

Georgia,  treatment  of  the  insane  in,  170. 

Gilbert,  Sir  Humphrey,  211. 
|  Gilman,  Rev.  Samuel,  317. 
!  Godding,  Dr.  W.  W.,  essay  by,  71. 

Graham,  Sir  James,  238. 
!  Green,  Dr.  John,  4. 
i  Grey,  Sir  George,  237,  245. 

Grissom,  Dr.    Eugene,  communication 
from,  108. 

Gurney,  Anna,  letter  from,  224. 

Gurney,  John  J.,  224,  236. 

Hall,  Mrs.  Louisa  J.,  a  letter  from,  158. 

Hall,  Rev.  E.  B.,  101. 

Hare,  Mrs.  Robert,  letters  to,  132,  134, 

136,  172,  173,  319. 
Hamlin,  Dr.  Cyrus,  300. 
Harrisburg,  campaign  at,  121. 
Hartford,  asylum  at,  71. 
Harvard   College,   flags  bequeathed  to, 

343. 
Hazard,  Mrs.  H.  S.,  a  letter  from,  48. 


INDEX. 


391 


Heath,  Miss  Annie,  letters  to,  17,  49,  52, 
136,  138,  151,  185,  188,  189,  204,  230, 
231,  2GC,  302,  314,  320,  330. 

Hill,  Dr.  Gardner,  69. 

Hilliard,  George  S.,  149. 

Hildebrand,  Pope,  287. 

Holmes,  Dr.  O.  W.,  quotation  from,  84. 

Howe,  Dr.  S.  G.,  58,  74,  85,  89,  92, 119, 
121. 

Huger,  Alfred,  350. 

Insanity,  old  theory  of,  57. 

Insane,  the,  old  treatment  of,  57,  60,  61. 

Japan,  asylum  in,  361. 
Jelly,  Dr.  George  F.,  363. 
Jordan,  Captain  William,  227. 

Kane,  Dr.  Elisha  Kent,  126. 
Kent,  Chancellor,  126. 
Kerlin,  Mrs.  Harriet  C.,  358. 
Kirkbride,  Dr.  Thomas  S.,  190,  193,  336. 

Lamb,  Horace  A.,  375. 

Landon,  Elizabeth,  19. 

Le  Marchant,  Sir  John  Gaspard,  218. 

Lesley,  James,  letters  from,  15,  151. 

Lynde,  Dorothy,  8,  9,  11. 

Lynde,  Joseph,  8. 

Mann,  Horace,  59,  85,  87. 
Martineau,  Rev.  Mr.,  207. 
Maryland,  behavior  of  landholders  in, 

152. 
Massachusetts,  great  awakening  in,  36, 

58. 
McKenna,  Captain  M.  D.,  letter  from, 

222;  letter  to,  226. 

Merrill,  Mrs.  M.  J.  W.,  letter  from,  41. 
Middle  Ages,  superstitions  of,  56. 
Miller,  Mrs.  S.  C.  P.,  tributes  from,  160, 

369,  372. 
Mississippi  River,  perils  of  travel  on  the, 

138. 

Montgomery,  Alabama,  137. 
Mori,  Jugoi  Arinori,  a  letter  from,  361. 

Naples,  asylum  at,  285. 

Napoleon,  his  favorite  sayings,  244. 

New  England,  fifty  years  ago  the  state 

of,  54, 55,  56,  57. 
New  Jersey,  condition  of  jails  in,  106 ; 

Quakers  of,  107 ;  lunatic  asylum  in,  118. 
New  Orleans,  122. 
New  York  city,  asylum  at,  70. 
Nichols,  Dr.  Charles  H.,  128,  131,  375. 
Nichols,  Dr.  John  H.,  153. 
Nichols,  Rev.  J.  T.  G.,  letters  from,  73, 

74. 
"North  American  Review,"  article  in, 

95. 

Nova  Scotia,  122. 
Nova  Scotia,  the  Bishop  of,  141. 

Oneida,  N.  Y.,  a  New  Year  at,  316. 

Palfrey,  Rev.  J.  G.,  85,  90. 
Paris,  asylums  in,  62. 


Parish,  Dr.  Joseph,  293. 

Parker,  Dr.,  352. 

"Patriot"  newspaper,  extract  from,  131. 

Paul,  St.,  words  of,  127,  274. 

Philadelphia,  asylum  at,  70. 

Pierce,  President  Franklin,  his  veto, 
189  ;  his  reasons  for  vetoing  the  land 
bill,  194  ;  powerful  rejoinders  to,  194  ; 
his  political  character,  199. 

Pinel,  Dr.  Philippe,  his  methods,  62,  63, 
68 ;  memoir  of,  64,  65,  66 ;  revolution 
effected  by,  70. 

Pittsburg,  asylum  at,  316. 

Pius  IX.,  Pope,  his  benignity,  289. 

Politicians,  Democratic,  how  frightened, 
175. 

Portsmouth,  Rhode  Island,  34. 

Prague,  Ladies'  Club  at,  305. 

Public  lands,  origin  and  disposition  of, 
167,  168;  the  demand  for  lavish 
grants  of,  169 ;  for  benefit  of  the  in- 
sane, grants  of,  189. 

Railways,  absence  of,  125. 
Raleigh,  insane  asylum  at,  108. 
Rathbone,  William,  45,  132,  145,  271. 
Rathbone,  Mrs.,  letters  to,  206,232,234, 

250,  270,  297,  298,  299,  300. 
Ray,  Dr.  Isaac,  159,  347. 
Rivers,  Western,  racing  on,  124. 
Rome,  miserable  condition  of  the  insane 

in,  286. 
Rutherford,  Lord  Advocate,  238,  254. 

Sable  Island,  description  of,  210-213. 
Salem  witchcraft,  56. 
Sargent,  Lucius  Manlius,  88. 
Schroder,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank,  44. 
Scotland,  legislation  regarding  lunatics 

in,  237. 

Seymour,  Sir  George,  letter  to,  219. 
Silliman,  Professor  Benjamin,  33,  110, 

353. 

Simmons,  Abram,  case  of,  96,  97,  98. 
Skae,  Dr.  David,  251. 
Smith,  Rev.  Sydney,  61. 
Solomon,  a  quotation  from,  117. 
Somerville,  Massachusetts,  asylum   at, 

South  Carolina,  its  condition  after  the 

war,  352. 

Stanton,  Edwin  M.,  341,  343,  347. 
Stewart,  Dr.  R.  S.,  144. 
Sumner,  Charles,  letter  from,  75. 
Swift,  Dean,  139. 

Theresa,  St.,  a  modern,  291. 

Toronto,  Canada,  neglect  and  ignorance 
at,  311. 

Torrey,  Mrs.  Samuel,  letters  to,  28,  29. 
30,  3L,  46,  47,  50,  246,  249,  320. 

Trenton,  asylum  at,  104. 

Tuke,  Dr.  D.  Hack,  234 ;  extracts  from 
his  book,  235,  236,  237  ;  letters  from, 
241,244. 

Tuke,  William,  character  of,  66,  68 ;  ef- 
forts made  by,  67. 

Turkey,  condition  of  insane  in,  284. 


392 


INDEX. 


Valkyrias,  function  of  tme,  165. 
Van  Leuven,  Dr.  D.  H.,  261,  264. 
Venus  of  Milo,  141. 

"Victoria,"  list  of  donors  of  the  life- 
boat, 218. 

Victoria,  Queen,  orders  issued  by,  238. 
Vienna,  visit  to,  304. 

Walsh,  Mrs.  E.  H.,  275. 


Ward,  Dr.  J.  W.,  105,  272,  315,  374. 
Washington,  Congress  in,  43 ;  residence 

in,  51 ;  hospital  for  insane  at,  153 
Webster,  Daniel,  127. 
Whittier,  John  GM  362, 367. 
Williamsburg,  Va.,  asylum  at,  70. 
Woodward,  Dr.,  94. 
Wortley,  Mr.  Stuart,  238. 


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